Letters From Home, Letters From War
by moonlighttrail
Summary: This story picks up 2 years after the events of the original novel. A brotherhood story in the spirit of S.E. Hinton's original set against the backdrop of the Vietnam War. Darry/Soda POV
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1 - Exemption (D)

Sometimes in life, we do some things we come to regret. Some sooner than others.

"Darrel Curtis, the recruitment officer is available to see you now. He's the third door on your right."

"Thank you, Ma'am," I replied. I passed several other young men in the waiting area and began down the stark hallway until I came to the door that read 'LT. TOM WILSON.' The door was slightly open, so I knocked lightly. "Curtis?" a gravelly voice barked from inside.

"Yes, Sir." I pushed open the door. The man before me was middle-aged, and army to the core. He probably came out of his mama with a crew cut, camouflage diaper, and his first words were probably "Yes, Sir!"

"Have a seat, Son, and state yer business." This man commanded respect, and under his piercing gaze, I felt all of two years old. I felt like a low-life, scum of the Earth draft dodger. He knew my purpose; now he was waiting for my excuse.

"Well, Sir, I came to see about a draft exemption. My letter came this week," I began. Lt. Wilson stretched, leaned slowly back in his chair, and stared me down. After an eternity, he spoke.

"Why?" It was a challenge, a dare. My Curtis blood rose to the challenge, and I leaned forward and met his gaze.

"Lt. Wilson, I'm not some naive, scared schoolboy tryin' to hide behind his mama's skirts. I know you've heard every excuse known to man, God, and the Devil. Excuses from cowards. But guess what, Sir, I ain't a coward."

"I never said you were, Son. You're the one with the guilty conscience. I only asked you why. Why do you want this exemption?"

"It's not that I don't want to serve, Sir. It's actually kinda shameful bein' left behind. People look at me and I can see it in their eyes. 'You're young, fit. Why are you here while my Jim is off fighting? You coward.' There are other things I have to think about. My parents were killed a few years back and that left me as the sole caretaker for my two brothers. I fought tooth and nail everyday to keep us together, and an 'invitation' from Uncle Sam ain't gonna take that away. I won't let it."

"How old?" he responded cooly, unexpectedly.

"Excuse me?"

"Your brothers. How old?"

"Sixteen and Eighteen. Why?"

"They still in school?"

"Yes, Sir. One of them at least, anyway. He does real well too. He doesn't always use his head, but we've been able to keep it pointed in the right direction at least."

Lt. Wilson studied me for what seemed like another small eternity. "It's a shame," he finally said lightly. I must have given him a confused look because he continued. "You would have made a good soldier, Curtis. Maybe even made a career out of it. You're young, strong, responsible, and I can see that you've got a fierce protective streak. That's a good thing out there in the heat of battle. How old are you, anyway?"

I recovered from his abrupt change in demeanor, and managed to answer, "Twenty-Two."

"Well, in a couple years when the kid brother of yours graduates, it wouldn't be too late. You should consider it."

"So does this mean…"

"Yeah, Son. You've got your exemption. I can put it under a Family Hardship. What you're doing is commendable, and I won't tear you from it. We gotta keep our home front strong as well as our overseas forces. If we lose our families, we lose the country."

A tidal wave of relief and disbelief washed over me. Things weren't going to change. Vietnam drifted away like a forgotten nightmare, and we were safe. I excused myself with thanks from the Lieutenant's office and made my way back down the hallway. I left that office infinitely lighter than when I had entered, and for the next few months, life continued pretty much the same as it had since Mama and Dad had left.


	2. Chapter 2

June in Oklahoma is blistering most days. When you spend it up on a rooftop for eight hours or more a day, it'll leave you pretty beat. That's why, most evenings, you'll find me in our living room dozing to some over-rated television show or other with a glass of sweet tea in my hand. Sometimes a beer if I'm in the mood and we can afford it. I can't complain about the work though. It's steady, I work with a good crew, and it keeps me active even if it is repetitive. I don't think I'd be cut out for office work. It might pay more, but I think a desk would feel too much like a prison to me.

After I get home, I usually get dinner started before I crash, and Soda finishes it up when he gets home a while later. None of us are fancy gourmet chefs, but we don't starve either. Today was no different. I'd just gotten the oven going to warm up some chicken from yesterday, grabbed a beer, and settled down with newspaper in hand. I had a few moments of peace and quiet before all hell broke loose around me. Just enough time to think 'This beer is awful. Maybe someday we'll be able to afford something decent' and 'Why do I even bother reading the paper? Everyday it's the same thing: death tolls, protests, and political scandals. Trash.'

As these thoughts crossed my mind, the room around me burst into an anthill of activity. A large blur whizzed by my head and promptly collided with the duo coming in the door.

"Watchit, will ya, Pony!" Soda shouted at the retreating back.

"Sorry, Soda!" he yelled back still jogging down the road.

"Where ya goin'?"

"Where d'ya think?"

"Soda, remind him not too late," I added from my chair.

"Pony! Not too late! Dig?" Soda relayed. I never heard a response, but Soda came back inside.

"He hear you?" I asked.

"Yeah. He turned around, shot me a salute, and kept on runnin' away. Glory! That girl's got him dancin' at the end of her puppet strings something fierce."

"True enough. I like her though. He's whipped now, but she'll keep him on the straight and narrow."

Steve Randle sauntered back into the living room with a mouthful of chocolate cake and a chicken wing in one hand. "He still with that little piece from Brattle Street? Jeezus, Soda! How'd your kid brother score a chick like that, and you're still over here embracing the lonely life? Pathetic man, pathetic."

"Shut your trap, Randle. Don't make me come over there and whip your sorry hide."

"Just try it, Pretty Boy!" Steve invited.

Soda launched himself across the room and took Steve to the ground in the beginning of one of their daily wrestling matches. Meanwhile, I chucked my newspaper at the pair, dodged the fray, and went to check on the chicken. A few minutes later, I came back to the living room to find Steve in a headlock while Soda snacked on the chicken wing.

"You hoods bring in the mail?"

"Nah, too hard," Steve whined.

"Nah, too lazy," I quipped, and headed out the door.

Our mail was usually a cocktail of advertisements, flyers, and bills. This lot was no exception. I flipped through the stack lazily as I walked back to the house. One caught my eye. It bore the embossed seal of the U.S. Military. What in blazes? I swore we had cleared this up. As I looked further, I noticed the name on the envelope. It wasn't mine.

"Soda!" I bellowed as I slammed the door.

"Ice it, Darry. I'm right here. You ain't gotta yell. What is it?"

"It's for you," I said a little calmer as I handed the envelope to him. He read the front, glanced up at me, and then slowly began to open the seal. We already knew what that letter said, but until we saw the words, we all lived in a tiny bubble of hope and denial. But there in a black stain on a blinding white sheet were formed the words:

 _SELECTIVE SERVICE SYSTEM_

 _ORDER TO REPORT FOR INDUCTION_

The bubble shattered along with my beer bottle.

"Shoot!" Steve breathed, "They just called your number, Bud. You've been drafted."

My mind spun in a thousand directions. This wasn't supposed to happen. We were safe; I saw to that. This can't happen. I can fix this.

No. No I couldn't.

As my body tensed, a sharp pain brought me back to the here and now. A shard of the bottle had wedged itself in my hand, and I was bleeding pretty good. I welcomed it. The pain gave me focus. I looked back at my brother, but he hadn't looked up from the letter. Slowly, he raised his eyes to meet mine. He was lost, searching, and I couldn't help him. Damnit, Dad! This is when we still need you.

"Randle," I said in a dead calm voice, "See to dinner. Just don't let it burn. Call Pony over at Janey's too; we need him home. Soda, help me see to this busted hand." Soda barely nodded, but he followed me to the bathroom.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3 - Why me? Why not?

I stood there holding that damned letter in my hand. Vietnam. What did that even mean? I'd never even been outside the state. Hell, now I was gettin' shipped off the continent! I tore my eyes off of the letter and looked up at Darry. I wish for once those ice cold eyes would show something, anything! Just like and iced over lake, my brother's eyes were solid and unyielding on the surface and gave no hint as to what was going on underneath.

"Soda," Darry said breaking me out of my thoughts, "help me see to this busted hand." It was then I kinda registered that he was bleeding. A lot actually. When had that happened? I nodded slightly and followed him.

The glass in his hand provided a temporary distraction from the bombshell that had just been dropped. His hand was in pretty bad shape and I almost made him go to the emergency room. But after awhile, we felt like all the glass was out and now that I'd cleaned and bandaged it, he'd probably be okay. Darry sat on the edge of the tub testing his hand. Now that he was all patched up, we were left with no distraction, but I wasn't ready to face it yet. I couldn't deal with anything anyone had to offer just now. Not even Darry.

"Soda," he began, but I cut him off.

"Not yet, Darry. Not yet. I've gotta figure some things out first."

Darry opened his mouth to speak, but clenched his bad hand instead. He lightly tapped on the edge of the tub with his bandaged fist while his jaw tensed. To his credit, he kept his mouth shut and just nodded.

"Thanks," I acknowledged as I left the room. I crossed the hall to the room that Pony and I shared and closed the door behind me. That never happens. We pretty much have an open door policy around here. That door hasn't been closed, really closed, in years.

I flopped down on the bed and stared at the ceiling; the same ceiling that I had memorized down to the last detail. The ceiling with the small bit of missing plaster in the corner where I'd tried to smash a spider with a broom and gotten a little too excited, the caramel stain where Pony'd shaken up a can of coke and then stupidly opened it, the crack running almost along the center from the house settling… Yep, that ceiling was as familiar to me as my own hand. As I stared up at that tired and beaten old ceiling, my thoughts began crashing around in my head like a freight train.

Anger.

Why was this my war to fight? Hell, why was this America's war to fight? Now, I'm patriotic as the next guy, but I just don't get it. Why do we have to go sticking our noses in the rest of the world's business? Our guy's taking the hit and dying for something someone in Washington decided we should be a part of. I'm proud of my country, but I'd choose my family over country every time. Every damn time.

Fear.

I was up now and lightly pounding my head against the wall in an effort to stop the train. My family. How're Darry and Pony gonna get along without me? We're barely holding onto the house with both Darry and my incomes. I don't make much down at the DX, but it's enough. Darry just can't swing it on his own and Pony's still in school and it needs to stay that way. Pony… How's Darry gonna manage him? They love each other, sure, but they just don't get each other. More than once, I'm the only one around that's been able to make them see sense when they're arguing. I'm the one they can both talk to. Shoot, Darry'll have Pony laid flat inside of a week after I leave. Maybe two if they're lucky. This single, blasted letter was going to tear my family apart.

Arrgggghhhhhh!

My scream of frustration tore through the house as my fist tore through the wall. Hitting something always helped. I waited for Darry to come bustin' in, but he didn't. He was lettin' me alone like I'd asked. My hand throbbed, but I don't think anything broke. Anything but the wall anyway. I concentrated on the throbbing which helped bring my thoughts under control.

If there's anything that Darry is, it's committed. He's committed to keeping our family together. Pony and him'll learn how to deal. They'll have to. It won't be easy, but they've at least learned their lesson about gettin' too physical. The talking will come later… hopefully. There is no way Darry's gonna let the state take Pony. He'll control himself.

Why me though? Out of the thousands and thousands of potential draftees in Oklahoma alone, why is it me who's gotta put his life on the line? Why not, Sodapop, why not you? I'm not smart like Pony who'll go on to college and get a degree and make something of himself. I'm not responsible like Darry who's got the burden of taking care of a family. All I am is some tuff hair and a pretty face, but I am good in a fight. The army'll take the hair, the war'll probably take the face, but the fight could come in real handy. I'm good at it and I like it. I never feel so alive as I do right after a fight. Why not get paid for it? Pay. They money has to be better than I'm making now at that dead end service station job. I could send it back to Darry. And if I kick it while I'm over there, I'm sure there is some kind of death benefit he could cash in on. Huh, thinking of that, I'm probably worth more dead than alive now. Sodapop Curtis finally worth something.

What else is there to stick around for, really? A girl? Nope. I ain't had a girlfriend since Sandy left me. Still working on gettin' over that. So the answer is nothing. There's really nothing keeping me here. Besides, by me going, it'll save Pony. If we're still in this damn war in a couple year, Pony'll still have to register, but the won't call him. They don't take two from the same family usually. Pony'd do it, but I'd rather it was me.

Acceptance.

This was happening. This was real. And apparently, I was okay with that.


	4. Chapter 4

I came out of the room and headed toward the kitchen. My hand needed ice. My brothers looked up from the table, but said nothing. I made my way to the icebox, chipped off some ice, wrapped it up in a towel, and held it to my hand. Glory that felt good! I did some damage for sure.

"You want some supper?" Darry asked hesitantly.

"Yeah, I guess," I said as I sat down. It was quiet for a few minutes while Darry fixed me up a plate. "Did Steve leave?"

"Yeah, he left when Pony came home."

After another minute of silence, Pony started the real conversation. "When do you leave?"

"Three weeks," I said.

"Where to?"

"Fort Leonard Wood in Missouri to start. Then well..." I trailed off.

"What are you going to do until then?"

"I dunno. As many things as I can, I guess. Maybe see if I can even try out one last rodeo. I'll have to find someone to borrow a good horse from though."

"That sure ain't gonna be easy. You haven't competed in years."

"I know, but who knows, someone might just be crazy enough to let me do it. It'll be awhile before I'll get to see a horse again."

"What else?"

"Probably just hang out around here with you guys and the gang mostly. That's what I'll miss the most. I'll have all the time in the world to catch up on everything else when I get back, but I can't get that time back. I'll miss your graduation Pony. Heck, you'll be halfway through college by the time I get back."

Pony waited a few moments letting that sink in.

"You scared, Soda?" he finally asked quietly.

Darry, who hadn't said anything and had just been sitting picking at his food as Pony and I'd been talking suddenly broke in. "Enough, Pony."

"But I was just askin'..."

"I said 'Shut it' Ponyboy!" Darry roared as he slammed his plate and got up from the table.

Oh boy...

"Darry," I said following him, "What's eatin' you, huh? These are perfectly normal questions for him to be askin', and I don't mind answerin'."

He rounded on me. "You don't understand!"

"Then tell me!" I yelled back. We were nose to nose now. Well, nose to neck really. Darry's got quite a bit of height on me. "Help me understand!" I pleaded. "You know what scares me the most about leavin', Darry? You. You and Pony. You gotta learn how to talk to the kid or you're gonna lose him. I'm not talkin' the state either. You're really gonna lose him. Pony and me are close, Dar. Real close, and he's gonna be hurtin' when I leave. He'll have no one, not with Johnny gone and now me. What happens if Janey leaves him? They're only sixteen. Who's he gonna go to? Two-Bit? Two-Bit's idea of dealin' with a break up will be sneakin' the kid into a strip club. You're gonna have to listen, Darry. Really listen. Pony's gonna need to talk about all sorts of things. You won't understand half of it, but he'll be fine as long as you're listening. Talking's how he thinks things through."

Darry turned away from me and braced himself on the door frame.

"You shouldn't even be going, Soda. It should be me," he said and his voice broke a bit.

"Believe me, Darry, I don't want to, but it's better if it's me. It's not like any of us can control this. We're all along for the ride. Uncle Sam calls and you go."

"You don't get it!" he screamed as his good fist bashed against the door frame. "It was supposed to be me!"

There were tears in his eyes now. I had only seen Darry cry twice in my life. Once after our parents had died when he thought no one was around. The other was when we got the phone call a couple years back letting us know they found Pony and that he'd be alright. Whatever Darry was dealin' with, it was bad.

"It was my name on that letter, Soda!"

What in tarnation was he talkin' about? We all saw the letter, and my name's not exactly easy to confuse with anyone else. "Darry, you're not makin' any sense. It was my name clear as day."

"A few months ago, another letter came. It was mine. But I was too chicken and got an exemption so I could stay here and take care of you and Pony. It was supposed to be me. If I hadn't been such a coward, you'd be staying here safe."

Anger exploded inside me. What can I say, greasers aren't very good at controlling our emotions. I had him pinned against the door frame and my hand was twisted up in his shirt before he could blink.

"Darrel Curtis, you listen to me and you listen good. If you ever call yourself coward again, ever, I'll whip you till kingdom come, then I'll go up there and get you and whip you again. Is that clear? You are the furthest from a coward I've ever met. We need you here. You're what kept what's left of this family together when you could've gone after your own dreams. Don't think that Pony and I don't realize that."

"But I'm supposed to keep you safe!"

"Then you understand why I've accepted this. If I go, Pony's safe. It's my turn, Dar. My turn to keep us safe. I'll be fine. I'm good in a fight, and I'm good at keepin' my head down and outta trouble. I'll be fine. You just gotta make sure I have a home to come back to. Hear?"

Darry stared at me for a few moments and then pulled me into a crushing hug.

"This ain't right," he whispered into my hair, "but alright."


	5. Chapter 5

After a minute, I let Soda go. I needed some time.

"I'm going for a walk."

Soda nodded and headed back toward the kitchen. I headed out the door. It was a nice night: good temps, light breeze, and a full moon. I lit up a cigarette. I didn't do this much anymore; just walk I mean. I enjoy it, I just never do it. As I walked along, I just watched everything around me. This is the same stuff I see everyday. The same corner market, the same bar, the same barber shop, yet somehow at night, it all looks different. Calm. Maybe this is what Pony's talking about when he talks about things like sunsets.

A car horn blasted through the stillness and shattered any deep revelation I was about to have in regards to my Pony problem. A car full of boys about Pony's age slowed down and kept pace with me. I played cool and side-eyed them. Socs. A whole car full of them. I betcha my last three paychecks that one of them just turned sixteen and mommy and daddy had just given them that slick set of wheels. It'd be wrecked inside of six months tops. Shame really. It was a beauty. They were high on life and looking for trouble.

"Here Grease, Grease, Grease! Here, Greasey!" one beckoned out the window. He was calling me like a damned chicken. To be fair, I definitely looked pretty greasy. Beat up jeans, tight black T, lit cigarette, and a tuff expression. Yeah, I could see it. When were these kids gonna wise up? You'd have thought they'd have learned something after the whole Sheldon vs. Cade incident. It was only two years ago. People forget quickly, I guess. What to do, what to do...

I could whip 'em easily enough. One problem though; they're all minors. I whip 'em if they come after me, and it's my ass in jail. Instead, I just began slowly turning up my short sleeves like I always would for a rumble. Shows more muscle that way. I took a long drag on my cigarette, and drawled slowly, lethally, "Is this really the hill you wanna die on, kid?" Now that I was facing the car with my full force on display, they were rethinking their plans. After a few more insults to save face, they sped away. As they left, they threw an empty bottle out the window at me. Not even close, boys, not even close.

I didn't really have a destination in mind when I set out from the house, but somehow I landed up in the park. I strolled past the swings and settled on the bars. I ground out my cigarette and tested the bars. After a set of pull-ups, I climbed up top. I lit up another cig and laid down on the bars looking up at the sky. We were too near the city for a great view, but there were some stars out, not to mention the moon. I just breathed in a drag and relaxed.

Maybe Soda was right. Maybe he could handle this. He wasn't a kid anymore and he seemed like his mind was made up. It was his turn he said. Could I let him go? I breathed out a long trail of smoke and watched it curl away.

A car pulled up disturbing the calm. What was it with the cars tonight? I heard a couple people get out, but not enough to be the kids from earlier. It was either someone else looking for trouble, or the cops.

"Hey, you! The park closes at sunset. You need to get outta here."

I took another slow drag.

"You hear me, Son, or are we gonna have trouble?"

"I hear you, Officer," I responded finally ,"I'm leavin'"

I swung down from the bars, nodded to the officers, and headed for home.

As I approached the house, I saw the living room light still on. I'd expected both the boys to be sleeping already. I walked in quietly just in case. I was right, sorta. Pony was sprawled out over the chair with his coltish legs hooked up over the arms, and Soda was curled up slightly neater on the sofa. Chuckling, I made my way over to them. It wasn't gonna feel right without Soda. With three, we'd always supported each other, just like a stool. With just two, I wasn't sure how we'd stand. In Soda's case, one. He'd never been by himself before, and he wasn't exactly going into prime circumstances. I nudged them awake.

"'su matter?" Pony asked sleepily.

"Nothin'. You fell asleep in the living room," I answered softly, "Head on toward your real bed now."

Soda got up, stretched, and then pushed Pony down the hall.

Less than three was going to be tough to get used to.


	6. Chapter 6

Those three weeks went by in a flash. The next thing I know, it's the night before I leave, and I'm staring at a mostly empty duffel bag. I had a feeling I wouldn't need much. My life was army issue from here on out. I ended up throwing in a few pieces of civilian clothes, a deck of cards, some hair grease and comb, and two pictures. Pretty sad, really.

As I finished up, I heard a faint noise behind me, and was then blindsided by a flurry of activity. First, a bag or something went over my head, and then before I had a chance to fight back, I was grabbed around the chest as well as by the feet. Then I began moving. As this was happening, I hear Two-Bit's voice say, "Relax, Partner, this won't hurt a bit." It was the worst John Wayne impression I'd ever heard.

"Two-Bit! When I get free, you'd better run faster than you ever have because you're in for a beatin'!" I shouted.

"Wooooowheeeee! We got us a fiery one. Ain't you just quakin' in yer boots?" I'm pretty sure that voice belonged to Steve attempting to be Clint Eastwood. Why do I hang around with these idiots?

"Where in the heck are you takin' me?" I asked as I struggled.

"Hold yer horses, and you'll find out soon," John Wayne answered. Then I hear Clint yell "Watch it!" right before my head smacked into something. Something very hard.

"Owwww!" I bellowed.

"Woops! You alright?"

"I will be, but you're gonna need a surgeon when I get through with you!"

"We'll see about that!" John Wayne announced, "Here we are!"

My feet landed on the ground, and the pillowcase was ripped off my head.

"Surprise!"

I looked around at my backyard. It wasn't a huge gathering, but it was perfect. There were burgers on the grill, music on the radio, and a cooler full of drinks. "Alright, you two idiots get to survive, but I'm warnin' you, If either of you start singing, I'm taking it back." I grabbed Steve in a headlock and messed up his slick hair.

"Hey! Not the hair! Not the hair! We agreed: Never the hair!"

"Too bad, Clint Eastwood, you messed up mine first with that pillowcase. Payback's fun, ain't it? Uncle?"

"Never!"

I dug in a little harder. "Uncle?"

Steve groaned and tapped out, "Uncle." I let him go.

"Hey, John Wayne!" I yelled at Two-Bit, "You gotta comb? You owe me!"

He laughed, slid his comb out of his picket, and tossed it to me. Steve already had his out and was repairing the damage I'd done. I set to work on mine. After a minute, we looked at each other and nodded like we always did. This was gonna be my last good hair day for awhile.

"So who's plan was this, anyway?"

"Mostly Darry's, but we all helped."

"How'd you do this without me realizing?"

"Eh, you've been so busy and distracted, it wasn't hard."

As I looked around, I noticed it was mostly a mix of people I used to go to school with and neighbors that I'd known since I was little. I was touched.

"Well, thanks, even if my head is gonna have a knot the size of Texas."

"Hey, we gotta send that pretty face of yours off in style," Steve replied as he punched me in the shoulder. "You can pay me back for the lump when you get back."

"Oh, I will. You can be sure of that."

"Heads up!" yelled Ponyboy. I barely managed to duck my already injured head out of the way of an incoming football. I took off like a shot after him. After a while, I tapped out of the game and headed for the drinks and grabbed a Coke. Darry was over at the barbecue, so I headed that way.

"Hey, Man, this is great!" I started.

"Well, we couldn't send you off with nothing. It's not often we have an excuse for a party," he said smiling. I hadn't seen him truly smile in weeks. Darry was a pretty serious guy under good circumstances, so especially during this stressful time, his smiles were few and far between.

"Well, it's perfect. I couldn't ask for anything more."

As the evening wore on, everyone began leaving. Finally, it was just the gang plus a few of the girls. Two-Bit and his girl were loudly singing along to the radio. They'd been hittin' the beers pretty hard. Glory they were awful!

"Hey you coon hounds! Muzzle it, will ya? It's gettin' late!" I shouted over to them. They ignored me. I looked around at my crew. Pony and Janey were snuggled in a lawn chair talkin' about something deep, occasionally bickering yet laughing, and smiling. That was what they did. I didn't get it, but it seemed to work for them. Pony'd found himself a good match. Darry and Steve were playing catch with the football while they argued about some game or other back in 1954. All in all, it was a perfectly normal Oklahoma summer night like no other. This was what I was gonna miss.

The next morning came too soon. I greased my hair and made sure it was perfect, grabbed my bag, and met my brothers at the car. We drove to the bus station in near silence. What was there to say? Most things seemed too silly to say right now, and anything worth saying didn't need to be said. As we pulled up to the station, my stomach lurched, and then it steeled. I reminded myself of all of the reasons I was doing this as I got out of the car. I told myself this was just temporary and that I was doing my duty to my family and my country. I screamed to myself over and over that I'd been fine. I almost believed it. We approached the bus and stopped. I faced my brothers, and Darry pulled Pony and I into another one of his fierce hugs.  
"You'll be fine, Pepsi-Cola, you'll be fine. We'll be here waiting for you," he said, "Just use your head like you usually do and come back."

I nodded as I pulled away from them and boarded the bus.


	7. Chapter 7

The bus ride took most of the day. I wasn't doing anything, but by the end of the trip, I was exhausted. It was late when the bus pulled up, but the station was right near the fort. I guess this was it. I grabbed my bag from the rack, and got off the bus. I hobbled toward the gatehouse on stiff legs. Dangit that hurt! I can't remember the last time I sat for so long.

By the time I got to the entrance, they'd stretched out a little, but I still felt like I'd been on a marathon riding session like I'd used to go through when I did rodeo. I approached the gate and two MPs stepped out.

"Business?" one asked.

"I've been told to report here for basic," I answered, "Last name's Curtis."

"You got I.D.?"

I nodded, dug in my pocket, and handed over my driver's license. After a few seconds, the guard started chuckling. Great.

"Hey, Hunt, we got a 'Sodapop' on that list?"

The other guard started laughing too.

"Sure do! So this is the Coke kid? Kinda hard to forget seeing that name on the list."

"Wow, Kid," the first guard said as he shook his head in pity at me. He then turned back to Hunt, "This kid is sure gonna have fun in basic. Wait till the other recruits get ahold of him. Alright, Kid, if you keep going down the main road, the second building on your right will be open. They'll get you where you need to go. Good luck!"

With a nod, I took my license back and headed down the road. This was off to a roaring start.

The building was just where the guard had described. Inside the door, a youngish man, probably early to mid thirties, was sitting behind the welcome desk. Definitely an enlisted man by the look of him

"Can I help you?"

"Yeah... I'm supposed to report here for duty."

"Name?"

"Uh... Sodapop Curtis."

The man grinned at that. I'm so glad I'm here to add some humor to your night. Fortunately, he had the class not to comment. He started flipping through a stack of files.

"You almost missed your deadline, Curtis," he said as he pulled a file out of the stack. "Alright, I got what you need. Follow me."

I followed him back to the main road and we walked for a while past a large assortments of buildings. Some brick, some frame, all plain. It was too dark to tell much more than that, but I guess I'd figure that out later. We kept walking... and walking. Jeezus this fort was massive! More like a small city really. As we walked, Brinker started in on some small talk. I found out a bit about him, a bit about army life, and a bit about the base. Finally, we stopped at a massive brick building.

"Welcome to your new home, Curtis."

He ushered me forward into the barracks.

We climbed a set of cold metal stairs and came to a door. Brinker opened it, and it led to a large dorm style room. There was a center aisle with rows of cots on either side. It had room for about 30. I stepped in to see a mixed crew of men who looked up at me as I walked past. One of the first small groups of guys started hollering at me, "Woooooo, Rapunzel! Look at the lovely locks on that one. You gonna cry tomorrow, Sweetheart, when they shear you like a sheep?" I kept my face forward and kept walking. Real winners.

We came close to the far side of the room when Brinker stopped. "Looks like yours. Here's your lock for your footlocker. Take care of it because it stays here after you ship out. Keep the key on your tags." He then handed me my very own pair of freshly minted dog tags. "Keep these on at all times. Protect yours and never touch another soldier's. Facilities are all behind that wall at the back of the room. Don't use up all the hot water. We've got a lot of men here," As he went on, I brushed my thumb over the newly stamped metal. This was me now. I was a number. "You'll begin check-in and processing at Oh-Five-Hundred tomorrow morning. You'll have a chance to surrender any prohibited items then without penalty. Get settled in, and good luck." He offered his hand to me. I accepted his gesture, and he left. The other guys were still looking me over. The guy in the bunk to my left spoke first.

"Welcome to the crew," he began, "The name's Rainier."

He also reached out his hand. Rainier was a slim man about my age with light sandy brown hair and pale skin. Smart face, generic glasses, kinda socy dress... Not exactly a natural born soldier. Still, he seemed pleasant enough; I returned his handshake too.

"Curtis," I responded as I began unloading my few things into the locker. Rainier closed the book he was reading and moved to the edge of his cot.

"Where are you from?"

"Near Tulsa," I replied, "You?"

"St. Louis."

I nodded in acknowledgement as I shut the locker. I settled on my cot. Not too great, but I've dealt with worse. I pulled out a cigarette, lit up, and settled myself back.

"You smoke?" I asked as I offered him the pack. The more guys I have watching my back around here the better.

"Nah, never seen the appeal. Thanks though.

"Suit yourself. You've probably better off that way. I really need to quit."

"You may want to take a look at the wall, Curtis," Rainier advised as he gestured toward the concrete barrier separating the bathroom area from the main room. On the wall was a list of rules. Rule Number One: No Smoking in the Dormitory.

"Noted. I think I'll get away with this one. I'm too beat to get back up."

"Guess they don't want anyone burning the place down."

"LIGHTS OUT IN FIVE!" a call came out through the room.

"So, Rainier, when did you get here?"

"Early this morning."

"Anything interestin' I should know?"

"Haven't seen much yet, but a few of the guys have already made an impression. Gage, Braxton, Tillis, and Abrams seem decent. Boyer, Steen, and Dixon could be trouble. They're the ones by the door you came in. Pretty rough. Haven't really met the rest yet."

"Thanks," I said and I thought back to the group I met as I walked in, "I think I see when you mean."

The room plunged into darkness.

"Nighty night, Ladies!" called a falsetto voice.

"Guess that's our cue," Rainier's voice sighed, "See you in the morning, Curtis."

"'Night," I responded. After lounging for a minute, I ground out my cigarette in my palm and stripped down to my shorts. In the shadows from the outside lights, I could see some of the guys climbing into bed and tossing and turning. I just laid there lounging with my hands behind my head. Five o'clock was going to come soon, but fat chance sleeping. The room was slipping into a mix of rustling and snoring. I was used to Pony and his deep breathing, but a room full of thirty guys, wood floors, and army issue cots... sleep was a laugh.

Having my own bed was new to me. Pony and I had shared almost as long as I can remember. I was missing him somethin' fierce about now. Live it up, Little Brother. Enjoy that bed all to yourself. Or is is too big for you now? Too empty?

A few bunks down, one of the guys let out a monster snore that damn near shook my bed. I let out all the air in my lungs in a slow sigh.

Get used to it, Soda, get used to it.

5 A.M.

"Good morning, Lovely Ladies! Rise and shine and welcome to Hell! Muster outside the building in fifteen minutes. If you're late, you'll regret it."

The shout woke me up out of the twilight zone. Couldn't really call it sleep.

The room groaned, but stirred into motion. I rolled myself out of me bed and half walked, half tripped my way to the bathroom. After a few cold splashes of water, I checked myself out. I've looked better. The hair, gotta do something with the hair. This'll be my last chance, and you can be sure I'm not going to let it go out looking like this messy bird's nest. I went and grabbed the grease and my comb out of my locker and set to work. After a few minutes, I could live with it. I threw on my clothes, laced up my Chucks, and headed out to muster.

"Recruits! When you hear your name, line up. Abrams, Barnes, Boyer, Braxton, Cornell, Curtis..." The officer went on down the list as I made my way to the line. After a minute, he continued, "Alright, Greens! The first thing we do is make you look like soldiers instead of the pretty ladies you came in as. We're going to march your asses down to the processing building. You'll go in, we'll shave off the shag, you'll go into the next room and get your supplies. Any questions?"

No one really said anything, so the officer continued, "No, Sir! Your answer is 'No, Sir!'"

"No, Sir!"

"Alright, now move!"

We marched down the road to a faded frame building. Inside, we entered a plain concrete room with drains in the floor.

"Alright! As chairs open up, keep the line moving. We don't have all day."

I stepped up to one of the chairs. The lady waiting stopped me before I could even bend my knees to sit, "Nope! Head out that door and wash that grease out of your hair. The clippers won't work till you do. Next!" I slumped my shoulders and headed out. In the side room, I found a sink and some shampoo. I looked at it in defeat, ran my fingers through my hair, and started washing. A few minutes later, I was back in the chair and my hair was falling to the floor under the clippers. Another minute later, and it was over. I stood up and ran my hands over my buzzed head. Fifteen minutes later, I was stuffed into army issue drab and solid combat boots. I was playin' dress up like a little girl. I caught sight of myself in a window and just stopped. The boots were no Chuck Taylors, but I'd deal. The hair... Well, I couldn't even recognize myself. It was like I was lookin' at someone else that just happened to share my face. The guys would have a ball with this. Two-Bit would have something tuff to say along with his jackal laugh, and Steve would probably try to headlock me and rub it. I just looked lousy. Stinkin' lousy.

 _Ponyboy,_

 _Now I know how you felt about your hair... Lordy, Joseph, and Moses..._

Step One: The army took the hair.


	8. Chapter 8

_Darry,_

 _I know it's only been a day, but I thought I'd check in while I had the time. I got here late last night and immediately got shown to my barracks. Don't let Pony know, but I'm mighty jealous of him and our bed about now. Anyway, we got processed today and they sheared me pretty good. I look lousy! If anyone ever breathes a word about it, I'll beat them bloody._

 _After processing, they ran us through some routine basic training exercises: running, obstacles, hand-to-hand, and range practice. I handled all of it easily enough. Well, the running could have been better, but I didn't embarrass myself too much. It's the smoking. I tell ya, Pony was right in quittin' cause of track. While I handled alright, a guy I met last night struggled. His name's James Rainier. He actually goes by James too, not Jim like most guys would. Rainier's a good sorta guy though. Helped me get the lay of the land last night. He found out my name today too, and his only reaction was "No kidding." Good man, that one. Some of the others, not so much..._

 _When we took our lunch break, Rainier made his way toward me and called out my name. Tryin' it out, I guess. Anyway, a few guys overheard him and put it together what he was talkin' about. Now, these same guys laid into me already last night cause of my hair bein' long. The just can't seem to keep their noses in their own business. I saw 'em laughin', but they held off doin' anything. For awhile at least. Later, during combat training, I was paired with Dixon, their leader. It seems like they won't even take a piss without askin' him first. As we were sparring, he leaned in close and started hecklin' me. All sorts of irritatin' things like, "So, Coca-Cola, if I shake you up too much, will you pop?" It's alright if you guys do it, but I don't know this guy from Adam, and he's already rubbin' me the wrong way. Anyway, he kept going, and you know how I got my share of the Curtis temper. The fightin' got pretty heated. The guy's a punk, but he ain't dumb, and he knows how to fight. Reminds me of a socy version of Dally. What, with the loud mouth and the king-of-the-world attitude. Only difference is Dal was on my side. I never had to fight him. I'm glad. We were only supposed to be practicing blocks and form, but we started really connecting. The drill sergeant must've noticed, because he came over and called us off with a warning to check ourselves and the he was watching. With jackasses like Dal and Steve around, I've never really been a target. I don't like it much._

 _Rainier on the other hand is provin' to be an interesting character in his own way. They guy's a total whiz. He'd outrun Pony in a brain contest easy. Too bad he can't run half as well with his body. The guy's pretty hopeless. He's got my back though, so maybe I'll try to help him out with training. Actually, Rainier's got one thing going for him. He's a crack shot. Easily the best of the group. I didn't do too badly either. Those can shootin' sessions with Dad's .22 paid off. Well anyway, it's almost lights out and they're doing mail call, so I gotta end this. Don't know when I'll get the chance to write again. Apparently they took it pretty easy on us today._

 _Glory! I just noticed how much I just wrote. I never wrote this much in school when I got graded on it. Maybe if I had I would've done better. I was lucky to get a paragraph. Huh, tell Pony that by the end of this war, I may be able to compete with some of the literary greats and make him proud. Sodapop Curtis, Author. Whatdya think? Does it ring? Probably not. Mrs. Jackson would be proud though. Anyway, I hope you and Pony are gettin' along, and I hope you're tryin' to listen._

 _Love Always,_

 _Soda_


	9. Chapter 9

Life around here has been an adjustment since Soda left, and that's the truth. People keep askin' "How are you doing?" And you know what I tell them? I nod my head and say, "We're fine, Mrs. Sorentino," or "We're managing alright, Mr. Brady." Really, that's a load of bull. It feels like we're missing a limb. Kinda like an unbalanced merry-go-round. Sure, it'll move, but it feels out of control. And every time they ask me that, I smile and nod because that's what they want. People will ask how you are, but very few really want to know. I'm on edge, so one day soon, some well-meaning old lady is gonna get a full piece of my mind when I finally tip. You want to know the truth? It feels about the same as a switchblade to the gut every time you ask me that, Mrs. Sorentino.

We're all on edge, actually. The only thing that made that first week tolerable at all was Soda's letter that came a few days after he left. To tell you the truth, I was kinda surprised, but I'll take that kind of surprise any day of the year. Soda isn't much of a writer, so he must have been real lonely. Another piece of truth: so was I.

 _Dear Sodapop,_

 _You know I ain't one to sugarcoat things; life's too short for all that nonsense. Life's been different around here without you. Quiet actually. Pony spends most of his time over at Janey's. I can't tell if he's just infatuated, or if somehow he's scared to be around me too much without you. Afraid we'll get in a spat we can't fix. I don't think he's enjoying his new sleeping arrangement any more than you are either. I hear a lot of tossing and turning coming through that wall._

 _When I said quiet, I didn't just mean Pony either. Steve ain't been over here but once since you left. He only came over so I could lend a hand with a carburetor job. Between the two of you not eatin' here, our food is sure lasting us a hell of a lot longer too. I haven't adjusted to cooking for so few yet, so we've got about two weeks of leftovers in the refrigerator. I think that's a first around here._

 _Enough about us though, we're hanging on alright. You, however, got your own set of problems. You've dealt with guys like that before. Wait 'em out, but don't back down. If it comes to it, make sure you got a crew around you to watch your back. Keep Rainier around, he sounds okay. Maybe see if you can't get a few other guys though. Can't have my little brother's pretty face getting smashed in. Anyway, use your head, but keep it low. We'll be waiting. Write when you can._

 _Love Always,_

 _Darry_

I passed by the post office on my way to work to drop the letter off. I'd let myself run outta stamps. As I stood in the line, my mind drifted to Soda again. The kid had probably been up for two hours and was neck deep in some obstacle course. I wanted to be there with him, but I can't say I envied him. Kid... I've gotta stop callin' him that. Who am I foolin'? He'll always be 'Kid' to me.

A slight cough broke me out of my thoughts. The young woman behind the counter had an eyebrow raised at me. I grinned sheepishly and stepped forward. "Sorry," I muttered, " I'd just like to send this and pick up a book of stamps please."

She nodded and took the letter from me. She flipped it over to stamp it, and must have noticed the address. "Leonard Wood, huh? Your brother?"

"Yeah," I responded.

"Mine was just there. He shipped out a few months ago, and now he's God knows where. Postal service isn't exactly great between here and Vietnam." I know she was just trying to be polite, but comments like that do nothing for my anxiety. "How are you dealing?" she continued. Something about her struck me. Instead of my normal "I'm fine," I gave a real answer.

"I'm not sure."

She didn't reply, only smiled kindly and nodded. She's probably the first person I'd met that understood. I didn't have to be fine.

I walked out patting my shirt pocket. I'd taken to keeping Soda's letter in there. Now I'm not really much of a sentimental guy, but I liked having it there. It helped when I was missin' him.


	10. Chapter 10

"Keep my head down," that's what Darry had said, and that was what I was doing. Literally. Eight weeks in, and we were running a night tactics drill. We'd been bused to a new training location in the Ozarks and pitted against an experienced unit. We had to retrieve a secure file, rescue a high profile hostage, and then extract ourselves to the rendezvous with less than 20% casualties all from a high-security ridge-top facility. Previous recruits had nick-named this drill "Execution Ridge". Not very subtle, but so far it was provin' true. We were stuck and our unit was fractured. One group had split off tryin' to play the hero and stormed the base in a full frontal assault. They were slaughtered quicker than a pig in a bacon factory. That already left us over the casualty limit, and we were still struggling.

Dixon was in command now, but he wasn't thinkin', and he was gonna get us all 'killed'. He had a good plan of attack, but no extraction plan. Like I said, he was gonna get us all killed.

I spoke up, "It's not gonna work."

"What'd you say, Grease? Are you questioning me? If you're too much of a pansy to come along, just say so and stay here."

"I ain't no pansy, Dixon, and you know it. But you ain't got a plan to get us out. You're gonna lead us in there like rats in a trap. Just stop and think."

"Well, if you're so brilliant, what's your plan, Coke-Boy? Why don't you take the lead?"

"Hell, I ain't a lead, but you could be. For some reason or other, people follow you even if you are a prick."

He slowly walked to me and got in my face and grinned, "Well then, don't be a Candyass and come along and shut your mouth."

The hair on my neck was bristlin' and I clenched my fist. "Get outta my face, Dixon, before I deck you. I'll come, but this is on you."

His grin got even wider and then he looked down and spit at my feet. "Let's go."

His plan was pretty simple, but well thought. A few guys would stay low and provide just enough movement to draw attention, and the rest would scale the far side of the ridge and come up under the base. We'd take out the two sentries on the top of the west wall, and we'd be in. We still had no exit plan.

Things were going well. The ridge kicked our asses, but we made it. This is also where we were gonna be screwed coming out later. We'd be sitting, or hanging, ducks on the ridge goin' back down once they realized we were there. As Dixon and Rawlings took out the sentries, something caught my eye. The garage. Or as I saw it, our ticket out. I gave a low whistle and pulled Rainier and Abrams into a small niche in the wall.

"What are you thinking, Curtis?" Rainier hissed.

"Shhhh! Look," I said as I nodded to the garage.

"The Jeeps," Abrams agreed, "What's your plan? It'll be guarded and then we've got to get the keys. It'll draw attention."

"That's where you come in. I've seen you in action, and you're dead stealthy. You'll sneak in and take out the guards. Rainier, with you're shootin' skills, you'll be sentry out here. Take out anything you see comin' our way. Find somethin' to use as a silencer though, we can't afford to draw any extra attention."

"And you?" Rainier inquired skeptically.

"I'll take care of the Jeeps."

"It'll take an eternity to sort out the keys even if we can find them," Abrams pointed out . Now it was my turn to grin.

"Who said we needed keys? I'm gonna wire 'em. I'll have 'em runnin' in no time." That's one talent I'd never shared. You don't have a best friend like Steve Randle without knowing a thing or two about lifting cars. Mostly we just lifted the hubcaps, but sometimes we'd 'borrow' a couple cars and take 'em out ridin'. We used to have races on who'd get theirs running first.

"Alright," Rainier answered. "You know there'll be hell to pay even if this works. Dixon will be out for blood once he realizes we left."

"He's out for it anyway, so what's it matter? At least this way , we'll stand a chance of making the rendezvous. You in, Abrams?"

He was muttering something and kissed a pendent hidden in his shirt. It wasn't his tags, but I couldn't tell what it was. He dropped whatever it was back down his shirt and smiled. "Of course; let's kick it!"

He took off and a few minutes later, I got the all clear. I slid in the garage and got to work. This is what I was talkin' about. I felt like myself again. It felt good.

"C'mon, Curtis, you almost there?"

"Ice it, Abrams, I'm workin'. I'll be done in a minute." The engine roared to life; two more to go. They went quicker. Five minutes later, and we were in business. Now, we waited, and the adrenaline was soaring. A few minutes later, Rainier came flying in. It was showtime. We roared out.

The rest of our unit was running toward the edge of the ridge when we pulled up. Dixon's face was contorted in rage. "Where the hell have you been, Curtis?"

"Saving your sorry ass, now shut your trap and get in!"

He looked over his shoulder, slammed his helmet on the side of the jeep, but got in. We sped the ten miles to the rendezvous in silence.

As soon as I stopped the Jeep, Dixon jumped out, ran around, yanked me out by the shirt, and slammed me to the ground.

"What the hell were you thinking, Curtis? You wanted to be the hero? You think you're better than me? We lost three men inside, can you explain that?"

As he was screamin' at me, I started screamin' back and flipped him offa me. He came back low and took me out. The fight was on. I took a punch to the nose and a couple kicks to the ribs. I gave him a bloody lip and some sore kidneys before we were pulled apart.

"Curtis! Dixon! Explain yourselves!" our Sergeant barked. Warm blood was running down my face. We both stayed silent. "No answer? Fine then, solitary for both of you. If you're gonna act like a pack of wild dogs, we're gonna crate you like wild dogs." Some MPs escorted us to separate Jeeps and we rode all the way back to the fort in silence.

A metal door with a small grated window greeted me when I got back to the fort. Despite the trouble I was in, I had to smile. I'd managed to keep my nose clean for so long, but here I was. I stripped off my shirt and went over to the small sink. I took stock of myself in the mirror, bloody face and all. Damn that guy could throw a punch. My nose was a little less straight than it used to be. Bent a little to the right now. I ran the water cold and cleaned up the best I could, and then rinsed out my bloody shirt. It'd have to do.

 _Dear Darry,_

 _Well, someone in our family finally landed in the slammer. If anyone, I guess it was bound to be me. You're too careful, and Pony's too good. On the upside, Dixon's tastin' blood and won't be walkin' straight for a week at least. I know you said to keep low, but I couldn't help it, and it felt good._

"Curtis, up! The Colonel wants to see you."

I groaned, but rolled myself off of the thin mattress. Time to pay the piper I guess. Now's where we see how blind Justice is here in the Army.

I was marched across the compound to the admin building. I'd never met Col. Tavit, in fact, I'd only seen him once. He'd addressed the recruits during our first day of training. The MP ushered me in the room. Looks like I was late to the party. Dixon, Tavit, and our Sergeant were already there. Dixon was standing at attention in front of Tavit's desk, so I followed suit.

"What do you two hot-headed jackasses have to say for yourselves? Dixon is it? You first."

Great. Rich boy gets the first word. This ain't lookin' to promising.

"Sir. Curtis abandoned his unit during training. I got mad and lost my temper. It won't happen again, Sir."

Suck up.

"Curtis, explain yourself. From the reports, Dixon isn't wrong. You, Rainier, and Abrams can be brought up on charges unless you have a damn good explanation."

Why couldn't this have been a pretty girl? Them I can talk to. I could have myself outta this situation and sharin' a shake down at the Dairy Queen in two shakes if it was. Oh well, Sodapop, deal with what you got in front of you. Breathe.

"Well, Sir, I believe I was acting in the best interest of my unit."

"How so? Ditching them on a high profile operation doesn't scream 'best interest'."

"Dixon, our commander at the time, had no plan for extraction, Sir. We would have lost the exercise and if it was real, our mission as well as our lives. I saw an opportunity to save it, so I took it."

"It was an inspired idea, Curtis, I'll give you that. I don't even wanna know where you learned how to wire a car like that. Why didn't you clear it with your commander first?"

"He wouldn't listen, Sir. He's had it out for me since we got here. We've mostly kept it civil, but I believe he would rather have the mission fail than let me take any credit for it."

"You Son of a..."

"Dixon, shut your trap. From what Sgt. Willis tells me, Curtis is tellin' the truth. There's bad blood between you. Did that compromise your command of the mission?"

"But, Sir..."

"Answer me! Did that compromise your command of the mission?"

Dixon was turnin' red and gritting his teeth. he shot me a side glare and finally answered slowly.

"Possibly, Sir."

"Alright. Now Curtis. While what you did was impressive and salvaged the mission, it was reckless and I will not have it in my command. I should have you whipped senseless and court martialed. There is no room in this man's army for a maverick who leaves his unit and defies command. Stunts like that get men killed a hell of a lot more often than they save them. Do you understand?"

He was right, but in my mind it was a damned if you do, damned if you don't situation and I'd do it again in a heartbeat. I nodded.

"Yes, Sir."

"Good. Now that we've got that cleared up, let's talk about consequences. I will not tolerated fighting under my command. We're only as strong as our weakest link, and right now, that's you two. You're cut from all command privileges, you're on mess hall duty for the remainder of your time here along with Rainier and Abrams, and you'll be in solitary for the next three days when you're not training or working. Is this clear?"

He was layin' it on thick. Makin' an example out of us. I didn't even start the fight. But if I though about it, the punishment was manageable, and it was fair. I'd actually say I'd come out alright. Darry's voice rang in my head: _You screwed up, Sodapop. Now's the time to keep your head low and take the punishment. Come back fightin' later._ Dixon and I both barely nodded in acknowledgement.

"Come again? I didn't hear you."

"Yes, Sir," we both replied.

"That's better. Sgt. Willis tells me you're both promising and what I've seen supports that. Bright and talented. However, if you keep fightin' each other, you'll drag each other down so fast, you won't even have time to cry for your mamas. Get your asses in gear. Dismissed."

We turned to go, but Willis interrupted, "Rifles in five. Don't be late."

"But, Sir, we didn't get any breakfast," Dixon responded.

"And?"

Oh, Lordy, this was gonna be a long day.


	11. Chapter 11

As I read Soda's letter detailing his escapades in grand theft auto, rumbles, and solitary, I got mad. Real mad. I wanted to roll that letter up and smack him upside the head with it. He was supposed to be the brother who kept his head on. The laid back one.

 _...Dammit, Soda, I have half a mind to take a drive and come whip you myself. I get it, I really do, but if you pull a stunt like that over in 'Nam, you're likely to get yourself sent home to us in a bag. Don't do that to us. With that bein' said, the Jeep wiring move was brilliant. I told Randle about it and he nearly passed out he was laughin' so hard. Then again, he was also pretty drunk at that point, so he probably found it more amusin' than it shoulda been..._

I don't know what on Earth possessed me, but instead of posting the letter myself, I stopped by the post office on my way to work again. The same young woman was working the counter. She grinned at me.

"Out of stamps already? You must be sending that brother of yours a boat full of letters."

That girl had a way of makin' me feel like I was a fourteen year old boy again trippin' over his own tongue and feet. I grinned back like a fool, but managed to stammer out, "Ummmm... no actually. Uhhh... I just wanted to send this one off... personally."

She was still smiling. "Alright then. Anything else I can do for you?"

The next thing came out of my mouth before I could catch it. Maybe I was goin' crazy. Maybe I was just that lonely.

"Could I take you out for a drink tonight?"

"I can't," she replied after a few moments of being stunned.

I was at a loss for a response. Jeezus, has it really been that long since I asked a girl out? I don't remember it bein' this painful. Luckily, she continued on before it got too embarassin'.

"I meant that I can't tonight. You could buy me a coffee tomorrow morning though before work, at Marlene's. Six-thirty?"

I breathed a little in relief, but then my stomach bottomed out again. There was no way to make this not awkward, so I just bit the bullet.

"Sounds good. Uhh... I'm going to come across as the biggest block-head this side of the Appalachians, but I don't even know your name."

She looked at me with a half-cocked grin and her head tilted to the side a bit. "You mean to tell me that you just asked me out on a date and you don't even know my name? I have to say, that's the best thing I've heard in a while."

My brain kicked back to life for a second so I could create some sort of response. "Well, you accepted without knowing mine. How's that any different? I could be some crazy murderer stalking you." Not my greatest response ever, but hell, that's what came out of my mouth right then. She raised an eyebrow to match that half-cocked grin of hers. I'm not sure if I was beginning to love or hate that grin.

"Darrel Curtis, we went to school together for eight years. I don't expect you'd remember me because I wasn't a cheerleader, but it'd be pretty hard to forget you when your name was everywhere and you were the center of every pep rally we ever had. Too many people know who you are around here, so you'd be pretty dumb to murder me. You'd be caught too easily, so I think I'm safe. This part of town isn't that big, so wipe that surprised look off of your face and head off to work before you're late. I'll see you at Marlene's at six-thirty tomorrow."

I managed an "Alright," and turned toward the door, but she called out after me.

"Darrell, it's Hannah. My name is Hannah."

What in the blazes of Hades just happened?

I was at the diner by six the next morning. I had to recover a bit of my dignity, and showing up late wasn't going to help, so I took no chances. At six-thirty on the dot, Hannah walked in. I pulled out her seat for her, and she sat down. We may be poor and like our long hair and grease, but Mama and Daddy did teach us some manners. Mama always said, "Manners are free, so there's no excuse."

The waitress followed Hannah over with a set of menus. "What can I get for you this morning?" she asked brightly.

"Nothing to eat for me, but I will take a coffee. Cream too, please," Hannah answered.

"Just a coffee, black, for me. Thank you." After the waitress left, I had to ask. "Are you sure you don't want anything to eat?"

"Nope, I'm alright; I actually ate breakfast at home. I wasn't sure if the offer was for breakfast too."

At this, I started chuckling. I'd eaten before I came too because I was just as unsure as she was, and I told her so. She started laughing too. "Glory! I don't remember dates bein' this awkward. Are they usually, or am I just that much outta practice?"

Hannah was still smiling. She did that a lot it seemed, but it also seemed genuine. "Oh, they are. You're doing just fine."

Thankfully, the waitress chose that moment to come back with the coffee. I just watched Hannah for a minute. As she poured the cream in her coffee, she leaned over it, closed her eyes, and inhaled deeply. I'd never seen anyone savor somethin' as simple as a cup of coffee so completely. It was interestin' to watch. Then, she looked up and noticed me watchin' her. She leaned back and took a slight sip.

"I like to find enjoyment in life where I can. This is a little piece of enjoyment I can count on every day. What about you; anything you enjoy? What little thing makes the great Darrel Curtis smile?"

That caught me a bit off-guard. What did I enjoy anymore? I decided to start off with something a little simpler while I came up with an answer.

"You could call me Darry y'know. Everyone else does just about."

"Alright, Darry. I'm still askin' you the same question. What makes you smile?"

I sighed and leaned back with my own cup of coffee. Who knew a cup of coffee could make a man think so much.

"I don't know the answer to that anymore. Six months ago, I would have told you something like 'wrestling my brothers out of the bathroom in the morning so I could get a minute in there alone.' Now it just doesn't seem like there is much to fit what you're askin'. Lordy that's a sad answer; isn't it?"

"I get it, Darry, I do. You'll find something though. You know, you're a lot different from the high school football star from four years ago. More serious."

"Well, a lot's happened since then."

"True, and that's bound to leave a mark. In your case, some pretty heavy ones. I'm not the same person I was before Charlie left. I worry more now. Some changes are for the better though. Four years ago, I would never have said yes if you'd asked me out for coffee. I probably wouldn't have said anything actually. I'd have most likely run away."

"You don't say." I had a hard time imagining the woman in from of me running away from anything. The woman in front of me could dance over any obstacle with a smile on her face.

"Darry, there's a reason you don't remember me from high school. I wasn't exactly outspoken. I had friends, sure, but it would have scared the living daylights out of me if you'd approached me then. My brother getting drafted has given me a bit more of a Devil May Care attitude about life."

This woman continued to dumbfound me. Put me to shame, really. "All I do is worry about Soda. I can't help it. He's not even shipped out yet and I'm a mess. How do you get past it?"

"Oh, I worry all the time too; it's impossible not to. I got angry too. I snapped at anyone who tried to talk to me for a long time. But look at it this way; Soda and Charlie aren't fighting for America or in opposition of Communism. They're fighting for us; you and me. They're fighting so we can enjoy this cup of coffee or a movie at the drive-in. It's kinda like spitting in their faces if we go moping around all the time because we're worried about them."

"Heavens Almighty, Woman! Why are you workin' at the blasted Post Office? You should be working for the war department. With a face like yours and the thoughts coming out of that brain, you'd get so many guys to enlist that we'd wipe out the Viet Cong in a week easy!"

She blushed a little at that.

"I just call 'em like I see 'em, Curtis. Now, I'm going to be late for work. Walk me there?"

We walked down the street until we came to the Post Office.

"Well, this is me. Thank you for the coffee. It was the most interesting morning I've had in a while."

"It was my pleasure, Hannah. And listen, I'll think about what you said."

"Good, then next time you can have an answer to my question."

"Next time?"

She smiled her trademark grin at me. "Of course." Then she turned to walk in the door. A moment later she turned back around, "Oh, and Darrel, we can do breakfast next time too."

I smiled back at her and chuckled. "Yes, Ma'am."

This day was shapin' up to be much better than any I'd had in a long time. And I sure as hell wasn't ever gonna look at a cup of coffee the same.


	12. Chapter 12

_Darry,_

 _Not sure when this letter is gonna make it to you. Not sure how reliable the mail between here and Oklahoma is... Anyway, here I am. In Vietnam._

 _I wish I could say my last few days of basic went by quick, but that'd be a bold-faced lie. No, Sir, they didn't. I spent so much time in that damned kitchen that I started to look like the damn dish towel that became the newest addition to my uniform. Ah well, it was still a pretty fair punishment even if I'll never be able to look at another potato as long as I live._

 _I find, I can look at Dixon now though. The first week was Hell, sure, but we eventually came to an uneasy ceasefire. After a nasty round involving a vat of hot noodles which landed us back in solitary, only together, we hashed it out. That was one of the weirdest nights of my life._

 _We screamed at each other for awhile, ignored each other after we got tired of yellin', and then after we got tired of the silence, we started yellin' again. Finally, he went for the low blow. He started after Mom. Instead of killing him then and there, I actually started talking. I can't explain why; I just did. Maybe I just wanted someone around here to understand. One minute we're screaming at each other and he's insulting me, and the next I'm telling him about the Accident, you, Pony... everything. After I finished, he didn't say anything for a good long while. Then he just responded with a low whistle followed by "Well... Shit..." We didn't say anything after that for awhile. Then he started telling me a bit about his own rich, but screwed up, family. It reminded me some about Cherry. Only instead of getting fiery and philosophical like her, he got cocky and angry._

 _We're never going to be buds or anything, but at least we've stopped trying to murder each other. That's a good thing, I guess, seeing as there's plenty of other people around here trying to kill the both of us. Even though he's still a Jackass, I can't fault his soldiering. He'll have my back when we're fightin'. Hey, a Greaser you know is still better than a VC you don't, right?_

 _Now ready for the fun part? Well, kinda fun. Scratch that, it was awful. My first airplane ride was lousy. It was hot, stuffy, and long. Seemed to take the better part of a decade to get over here to Vietnam instead of just a couple of days. Being a military transport, there wasn't much of a view, and the up and down drop feeling when we changed altitudes made me almost reach for the bags to hurl. Almost. The ears were the worst though. Lordy, the ears! That pain almost makes me want to settle down right here with a nice little rice paddy if it means I never have to get back on one of those damned machines again. It's a good thing the Army got me instead of the Air Force. Apparently Sodapops just weren't meant to fly. Maybe I'll see if I can get transferred to the Navy for the return trip. If there is one..._

 _Well, we finally landed at the base and got off. What relief I had at finally being off that miserable bucket of sheet metal and rivets was run straight outta town as soon as the air around here hit me. And by "hit me", I mean kicked me full in the face like an untamed stallion. I never knew what people meant when they said we were lucky because Oklahoma has a "dry" heat. Now I know. Glory, do I know! Humid doesn't even begin to describe it. It's just plain wet. Which also means they've got mosquitoes the size of hounds._

 _There isn't much to write about just yet; we've only been out on a few patrols. In a weird way, I hope there isn't much to write about. I hope I'm still alive when you get this. If not, well, make up some tuff last words for me._

 _-Soda_

After I left the letter with the company clerk, I headed back to my new digs. This was a lovely khaki canvas tent we'd named The Pit. The Armpit, The Pit of Hell, whatever Pit anyone wants it to mean. About the only useful thing about it is that it keeps off the sun, most of the rain, and a few of the mosquitoes. I made my way across the tent to my cot carefully. Dixon and Abrams were the only two in the tent, and both of 'em were acting a bit too relaxed. We'd started creating elaborate pranks for each other, and you never knew when it was your turn. What can I say? It can get down right boring around here when you're not on duty. No girls around either for a distraction. Gotta make your own entertainment. I ain't been got in awhile, so I figure my time's about due, and I was right. No sooner than I'd laid down, I'm rolling backward with my ass up in the air. Bastards had rigged the top end of my cot! Well my neck was gonna be a bit sore, but at least it wasn't anything... slimy. I'd put a pan of latrine muck by Abram's bed last week. He stepped right into it when he got up the next morning. I had to run fast so it didn't come raining down on my head. He sure tried. I was faster.

This time it was his turn to run. I chased him through the mess hall, past the armory, and tackled him just outside Supply. I had him in a headlock, and it reminded me of Steve. After a minute, he gave up and choked out "Uncle", I released him, and we collapsed against the building. "So who was it? You or Dixon?"

"Neither," he answered. "It was actually Rainier's idea, but he had to leave for duty just before you got back, so he missed seeing his handiwork."

"Really? He's not usually part of the pranks."

"He can surprise you sometimes. You got off easily. I'd hate to see what he'd come up with if he ever finds a true enemy. The man's brilliant."

After a minute of catching our breath, we dusted ourselves off, and I gave Abrams a hand up.

"Since he's on duty, you're drafted to help me fix my cot. I'm beat, so let's go."

"Hey now, a man can only be drafted once," he said as he backed away from me grinning, "Army got me first."

"Like hell they did!" I yelled and we were off again. In some ways, I felt I had something of the gang back, and it felt good.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13 - The Trail to Henderson

"Up and at 'em! We move out at O Six Hundred as soon as it's light. Pack your gear bags. We're headed out for extended firebase duty."

Ughh… My brain and my body groaned as I rolled over in my cot. I heard the other guys in the Pit do the same thing.

"Where d'ya think they're sending us?" Abrams muttered into his pillow.

"Dunno. He didn't say, so how are we supposed to know?" Rainier answered back from his own cot..

"Shut it, will you!" This came from Dixon's corner of the Pit and it was followed by his own pillow being launched in the general direction of the other two. I gave up trying to get any more rest, so I rolled out of my bed and grabbed my shower supplies.

The showers weren't exactly high class, but they were still nice. At this time in the morning, well night really, the water in the tank is still pretty cool. If I closed my eyes, I could almost make myself believe I was back at home.

"Better hurry up. We leave in 20."

"Thanks, James." I didn't even have to open my eyes to know it was Rainier. Leave it to him to be watching the time. I stayed for a few more seconds of peace, and then reluctantly left. Twenty minutes later, I had my gear on my body, my pack on my back, and my rifle in my hand.

"It's 3rd platoon's turn to man Firebase Henderson. Alpha Company has some men up there that need some rest. Now I'm not gonna lie; this isn't gonna be a walk in the park. There's ten miles of jungle filled with Viet Cong between us and Henderson. We go fast, but we go careful. I've lost more men to bobby traps than to Charlie. We can expect to be there by nightfall if everything goes well. Any questions?"

"No, Sir!"

"Good. Let's move."

The first mile wasn't bad. This was the same territory we'd been patrolling, so nothing different there. Somewhere in mile two, it started feeling more… wild. Every movement put you one edge. Sweat was pouring down my face and back; some from the heat, some from the nerves. That shower sure was nice while it lasted. We were all dead silent. Up ahead, Sergeant Moreno signaled a stop, and we all gathered around him.

"There's a clearing up ahead. It's a deserted village, but there could be some VC in there. It'd be a good place for them to hid out. We're gonna skirt the edge, but keep an eye out. Let's get a move on."

We moved forward, and in a minute, we saw what he was talkin' about. Many of the houses were burned out with no sign of life anywhere, and I was walking on a whole mess of ammo shells. It gave me the creeps. As we skirted the village, a sight came into view I'm not likely to forget anytime soon. Probably not in my whole lifetime. There were bodies, sort of. Most of them were too decomposed to make much out. You could tell they were runnin' when they were shot though. They had almost made it to the edge of the village when they were gunned down.

We passed what I think was a young woman. Kinda hard to tell. Just past her was a kid. Probably only five or so by the size. Suddenly, I was wishin' real hard for those bags back on the airplane. I was feeling sick. I swallowed slowly and took some careful breaths. Finally, we made it to the other side. If I thought the horrors were over, I was dead wrong. Above the path heading into the village there was a man hung from a post. Whoever did this had burned him. I hoped that had been done after he was already dead, but I wasn't gettin' close enough to figure that out. He wasn't much more than a blackened skeleton. Resting on the top of his head was a U.S. Infantry helmet identical to the one sitting on my own head.

"Welcome to Vietnam, folks," Dixon breathed from behind me. No one else said anything.

An hour or so further in, the sergeant called for a halt.

"This looks like as good a place as any. Take a rest." We all dropped just about right where we were.

"What the hell was that?" Dixon steamed as soon as he plopped down.

"That's called a warning," I answered slowly.

"It's called civilians, Curtis," he answered back and spat on the ground next to him. The anger and sickness at what we'd just witnessed was obvious. For once, we were on the same page. After a long silence, Rainier finally broke in.

"One of the other guys told me about a village near the base that was taken out a few months back. The V.C. made an example out of them because they were sending some supplies to the South Koreans. I didn't think much about it."

"You mean you didn't think much about it until you saw it," Dixon snorted.

"Lay off," I broke in, "None of us thought much about what it was really gonna be like. We were all just thinkin' about soldiers, battles, and booby traps. But not kids. Never kids. Now, I've seen death before, but not like this. Not like this…" And that was God's honest truth. I had seen death before, but it was different. Dal made his own choice. These people hadn't. They never got the chance. My already simmering blood turned to a full-blown boil.

"You okay there, Grease?"

"No, Dixon, I sure as hell ain't."

We exchanged a single look, and that look spoke volumes. We were angry, but this was why we were here. Our silent conversation was broken by the Sergeant.

"Alright boys, move 'em out. We've got a long way left to go."

Miles of mostly uneventful jungle later, we approached Henderson. It was rough. It made our base at Cam Lo look like the Ritz in comparison. Oh well, Soda, you'll make do. "Come on guys let's go find ourselves a new Pit."

Later that night, we were in our new tent tryin' to sleep. Tryin' was the key word. I kept seein' those people in the darkness. Finally, I couldn't take it anymore, so I went for a walk. I found a crate outside the supply tent and sat down.

 _Pony, Darry, and the rest of you rabid hounds I call my friends…_

I started composing a letter in my head. Maybe it was helping me sort out my thoughts, maybe it was a sign of approaching insanity. Either way, at least I wasn't tossing and turning in that cot.

 _You think you've got it rough, boys. Well, think again. For all of our screwed up families, crappy jobs, and tuff talk, we don't know Jack…_

"You okay?" Rainier asked as he sat down on the crate next to me. I let out a deep breath and leaned back.

"Are you?"

"Touche," he replied, "So what were you doing? You looked lost."

"I was writing a letter."

"You know what, Soda, you're an odd one sometimes. You don't have any paper."

"And for a brainiac, James, you sure can be a dumbass sometimes. I was writing it in my head. Not sure I really want to put it down on paper just yet. Or ever."

" I get that. It's tough to decide how much to tell the people back home. I haven't written home in a month because I don't know what to say."

"Scenes like we saw earlier almost seem more like a movie than like real life. Things like that shouldn't be real," I confided. "For my brothers, I don't want them to be real." And I meant it. I didn't want Pony to even imagine this type of horror anywhere in that crazy mind of his. Let him think this war is all numbers and headlines, not faces. He's got enough material for nightmares already. He doesn't need more. And Darry… Darry doesn't need anything else in his head besides payin' the bills, keepin' track of Pony, and maybe findin' himself a good girl to have around.

"Soda? Where did you go? You got lost again."

"Home, James. I went home."

"How was it?"

"Beautiful."


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14 - The Worry of Madness (D)

"Mail's in, Darry!"

"Just toss it on the table, Pony, I'll get to it after while."

"You sure? There's a letter from Soda."

"What!" I came running out of the bathroom with my towel across my shoulders and shaving cream over half my face. "Why didn't you tell me that earlier?" I rounded on him and snatched the letter out of his hand. We hadn't had one in months. I tore open the seal and began to read.

 _Not much to tell here. We got moved to a new base even more in the middle of nowhere than the first. We patrol, eat, sleep occasionally… Like I said, not much to write about. Anyway, I'm safe and sound. No VC has messed my face up just yet. Hope you're all keeping well at home._

 _Love Always,_

 _Soda_

I just stood there staring at the letter. Months of nothing, and this is all we get? I tossed the letter on the table, clenched my fists, and went to finish my shave. Let's just say there were a few nicks on my face after I was done. Too much distraction, too little patience.

I headed to work with my head still stormy. Pounding a few nails usually helps me work out my frustrations, but today it didn't really help. After my eight hours were up, I made my way home. As I came up closer to the house, my day took a straight turn for the better. Hannah's car was in the driveway.

A minute later, I was in the house and went immediately to the kitchen following the sounds. The best part of my day was standing at the counter in my mama's apron mixing up a batch of what were probably biscuits. Without saying a word, I just went up behind her, wrapped my arms around her waist, and laid my chin on her shoulder. We just stayed like that for awhile as she kept mixing. As she reached for the biscuit cutter, I broke the silence.

"You weren't supposed to come over tonight. What changed your mind?"

"Pony called me. He said you were having a rough day. Then he added that my biscuits might go a long way in helping, but I think that request was more for him than you."

I gave a low chuckle at that and sat in one of the chairs.

"You're probably right about the biscuits, but I ain't gonna stand here and complain. He was right about the rough day though."

Hannah dusted off her hands and sat down next to me. "What's on your mind, Darry?"

"Are you sure you don't need to finish up the biscuits?"

"They'll keep. What's eating you?"

I let out a small sigh and slumped in my chair. How did this woman always seem to cut right to the chase? I could never distract her from anything, so why did I keep trying?

"We finally got a letter from Soda. After months, all we get is seven sentences. Seven lousy sentences! They didn't even tell us anything. He could have written 'I'm fine' and it would have told us just about as much. This isn't like him! He's never held anything back from us. I feel like we're losing him."

Hannah didn't say anything for a minute. Finally, she made a simple request.

"Can I see it?"

I just nodded, and she picked up the letter off the table. After a time, she folded it back up and just held it in her lap.

"This looks like the ones Charlie sends us. There are only a few, and they don't say much. They almost seemed… detached."

"Why? What's changed? What the hell are they doing to them over there? It's makin' me want to climb the walls because I don't know what's happenin', and there's not a single thing I can do about it!" I don't do well with being helpless. This feeling reminded me of when we lost Pony a couple years back. Anyone around could tell you exactly how bad I got. I was like a caged animal ready to tear anyone apart who came near while he was missing. Soda got the worst of it and never said a word.

"You know what, Dar? I've been thinking about this for awhile now. I was as disturbed as you when Charlie's letters changed. I think they're pulling away on purpose. I think they're trying to spare us. There's no telling what's going on over there. No one's talking about it. In fact, it seems as if they'll go to any lengths not to talk about what our soldiers are going through. Now I don't know Soda, but I do know Charlie. He would rather tell us nothing and make us worry than tell us the truth and give us nightmares as well as the worry."

I just sat there for awhile thinking about what she said. Knowing Soda, it seemed to fit.

 _It's my turn, Dar. My turn to keep us safe._

What kind of man was he gonna be when he came home? I'd known of guys that came back with shell shock so bad that they couldn't even have a life. They ended up losin' their families and had to hide themselves away. I needed to get out of here for awhile. Suddenly, the walls were feelin' pretty tight.

"You may be right, but it doesn't ease my mind any. You want to take a walk? I need some air."

"Alright, but I need to put the biscuits in, so we'll need to stay close."

She went about her business and popped the pan in the oven. Then she dusted her hands off and started takin' off the apron.

"Where'd you find that?" I asked her.

"Crushed up in the back of one of the drawers. Honestly, you'd think you never looked through a single thing in here."

"Hey now, have you ever seen a red blooded man wear an apron? Anyway, I'm glad you found it. It's good to see it bein' used."

"Well, so it doesn't get lost again, I think it can hang right here." She flashed me her trademark grin and hung it on the same hook that Mama had always hung it on. Then she grabbed my hand and we headed out.

It was a nice March evening, so we just strolled lazily. As we were gettin' back to the house, a crazy idea started forming in my head. It just kept getting clearer and clearer the closer we got. Finally we got to the steps, I stopped her, and pulled her close.

"Hannah, now if you run for the hills, I won't fault you. What I'm about to say is probably going to make you question my sanity. I want to marry you."

"So wanting to marry me makes you insane? Thanks a lot, Dar."

"That came out wrong. You know that's not what I meant."

"We've only been together for less than six months."

"So? I know what I want, and that ain't gonna change. You can make me wait another five years, and I'll still ask you the same thing."

She was silent for awhile. She was makin' me sweat it out, and it was pure torture. Then, in a split second, my world got a whole lot brighter. She flashed me that gorgeous grin and said, "Alright," and my jaw dropped open.

"You're not joshin' me?"

"You know me better than that, Darrel Curtis. Yes, with God as my witness, I'll marry you. With one condition."

"Alright," I responded hesitantly, "What is it?"

"I don't want a long engagement. I'm either your wife, or I'm not. I can't do a half in, half out deal. Three months tops. I don't need anything fancy."

The last shred of doubt and worry left. If that was her only condition, I'd be more than happy to oblige.

"Done. Now come here, Woman." I pulled her even closer and had the best kiss of my life. And then I started laughing… and laughing… I couldn't stop.

"Darrel, what in blazes are you laughing like a lunatic for?"

I kept laughing, but finally managed to choke out, "I never got down on one knee. I don't even have a ring. Hell, I didn't even talk to your dad! This is the biggest mess of a proposal in the history of proposals! Why in God's name did you agree to this?"

I was still laughin', and then she started joining me. We looked like a pair straight out of the asylum. Through her tears, she responded, "A wedding ring will be fine, and if you're on your knees, I'd rather you be scrubbing the kitchen floor. It's filthy!" She busted back into laughter before she continued. "And as for Daddy… well… I'll just make sure his shotgun isn't loaded when you tell him we're already engaged.!"

We were still dissolved in laughter when we burst into the house. Pony was sitting in the living room looking at us like the lunatics we were. We just went right past him back to the kitchen. Let him sit there confused for awhile; I had biscuits to eat and a fiancee to be with.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15 - Seven (S)

"Call."

"You sure you wanna do that, Curtis?"

"Scared, Dixon? I think you're bluffing, so I'm calling you out. Show 'em."

We laid down.

"Whooeee! A lousy pair of fours? I knew you were full of it. Pay up."

He scowled and threw a pack of cigarettes at me. Weeds were mostly what we betted with. They were good currency.

"Deal 'em, Curtis."

"Ain't had enough losin' yet? Too bad, because I'm done today. Try again tomorrow."

"Hey, that was my last pack! You gotta give me a chance to win 'em back."

"Ohhh, looks like you're going cold turkey for awhile. Too bad. I've got more interesting things to do."

From the mess hall entrance came a shout, "Mail call! Short, Mills, Abrams, LeCroix, and Curtis."

"Oh, look, and there it is now," I couldn't resist needling him one more time as a letter was dropped in my lap, "Now, if you'll excuse me."

I made my way out of the mess hall, across the compound to the Pit lighting up one of my sweet winnings as I went. I pushed away the mosquito netting to find an empty tent. I crashed on my cot, grinned at the letter, and tore it open and began reading.

 _Hannah...engaged...three months...best man…Pony...wish you were here...happy._

My jaw dropped as I read Darry's letter. I remembered him saying something about a girl, but married? Happy. He said he was happy. Darry doesn't say something like that without meaning it. This Hannah must be some woman. So I'm getting a sister-in-law. Huh… I wish he'd sent a picture. It'd be nice to put a face to the name. Hopefully he'll send one of their wedding pictures. Haha, I haven't seen him in a suit since… well… since the funeral. It's nice that he'll get to wear one for a happy occasion. One that I wouldn't be at. You know, this is the first big thing I'd miss. It hurt. Talk about some conflicting emotions.

"Ooooff!" I woke to my rifle landing on my stomach.

"Up, Soda. Time for patrol."

"Really?" I responded groggily, "What time is it?"

"You've got about three minutes till the Sarge comes looking for us; that's what time it is."

In response to this wisecrack, I threw the nearest thing to me which was a mostly empty canteen. Even without looking where I was throwing, I heard it connect with the intruder with a very satisfying clunk. It'd teach them to wake me up from a dream. It was good one too. From what I remember, it was something like my last night in Oklahoma at the party. Mostly anyway, but different it that strange dreamy way. People were there that shouldn'ta been: Mama, Daddy… Hell, even Dallas decided he wanted to attend my dream party. He was havin' a rip roaring good time too. That reminded me. I needed to write to the guys. Darry wasn't gonna have a bachelor party without some input from me. I may not be able to go to it, but I'll be hanged if I wasn't gonna have some say.

An hour later, I was swallowed back up in the jungles of Vietnam. Patrol was going pretty much like normal. Until it wasn't. Behind us, the jungle started moving. "Cover, boys! Go for cover!" came our Sergeant's command. I dove behind a low log and flipped over to see. I saw VC swarming like ants out of some tunnels off of the path that we'd missed. This path was too regularly patrolled. How the hell did they finish those? A bullet glance off of the log right by my cheek.

"Whooo! Close call there, Grease! Better watch that pretty mug of yours."

Dixon, crouched to my left, was high off this. This was our first real engagement, and there was fire in his eyes. You could tell he felt alive. Now that it'd clicked with me, I felt my own blood rise. Just like in a rumble. There's nothing like that rush.

"You'd better watch your own ass. VC coming at your two!" I replied and then let out a whoop of my own. My exhilaration was cut short as my own VC hurdled my log. I didn't think; I just shot. I just shot. He collapsed at my feet and his pained eyes stared at me briefly, he tried to sputter out something, and then he was just gone.

Everything slowed to a crawl, almost like a dream. I heard the bullets and the screams and yells around me, but they weren't real. I was in a movie. My head didn't believe me. The man at my feet didn't believe me. Vaguely I registered my name, but I was still in a dream. That wasn't real either. Then I was brutally jarred back to reality by a punch straight to my jaw. My dream world spun around, but then settled back to reality.

"Get your ass together, Coke-boy, or that head of yours is gonna be growing worms instead of that pretty hair."

I stared at Dixon for a second, brought my focus back, and nodded. He pulled me up and I rejoined the fight. Kill or be killed was the rule of the day. Seven. My number was seven that day.

Later that night, sleep wouldn't come. Their faces kept floating around in my brain. Their screams kept ringing in my ears. I burst my way out of the Pit and stalked aimlessly around. I bumped into someone, Mills I think, and almost laid him flat. I was on edge and about ready to blow. What was happening to me? I had no problem fighting. Hell, I enjoyed it. I always felt alive after one. Energized. But now, I just felt sick. A hand on my shoulder made me jump and swing. As I spun, an unwelcome sight came into view.

"Get outta here, Jackass. I'm not in the mood to have a round with you."

"Don't care, Grease, you're going to anyway."

"I said, get outta here!" This guy was playing with fire. Any one of the guys who saw me like this knew to stay the hell away. Dixon was either too dumb or just too reckless.

"I'm not going anywhere until you hear me out, Curtis, so are you gonna listen, or am I going to lay you flat?"

I'd had it, so I took a swing. We traded punches for a few seconds, but then I froze. What was I doing? I'm losing it. I looked up, and Dixon had dropped his fists as well.

"You ready to listen?"

I didn't answer, I just spit off to my side.

"Do you want to make it home, Curtis?"

"What the hell kinda question is that?"

"It's a simple one. I asked if you want to make it home. Because if you want to make it home not in a bag, you've gotta get tough man."

"What are you sayin', Dixon?" I was about ready to start swinging again.

"If you freeze up in battle like that again, you'll be going home to your brothers in a bag."

That was it. I couldn't take anymore. The faces all swarmed my memory at once.

"Why shouldn't I? I killed seven people today, Dixon, seven! Those are seven people who aren't going home to their families, so why should I? How can you stand it?"

Dixon stared at me for a few seconds. I stared back at him. Finally, he broke the silence.

"I have to. You gotta get cold in this world, Curtis. Gotta turn off those emotions. It's the only way you survive. Otherwise, you get chewed up and spit out like old tobacco."

All at once, something Pony said came back to me. He was talking one day about Socs and Greasers. I was listening, but it didn't make sense at the time.

 _They get cold, Soda. If they feel at all, it's too painful. That's why they drink all the time. It numbs it all. Us, if we don't feel, we die._

"I can't," was my only reply. Dixon just looked at me in disbelief, so I continued. "I ain't got a grudge against these people. I can't just turn off like that."

"Then you die, Curtis."

"No, Dixon, I don't. If I turn off I die. Remember that buddy of mine? The one that was gunned down by the police? He couldn't feel anymore and it killed him. For you Socs, feeling anything is like fire. You feel too much and you burn. Us on the other side, our feelings are breath. They may be painful, but we've gotta have them. I've gotta keep seein' them as human. The minute I stop, I'm gone. I won't be me anymore."

He considered me for a few minutes, sat himself down by the light pole, and offered me a cigarette. I joined him on the ground and lit up. Already my hands were steadying. I didn't even know they were shaking.

"So what are you gonna do? You know you can't shut down like that again out there. I won't fight with you if you do. You're a liability like that."

"I won't again. I can manage, but you can't ask me to shut off. I'll just have to figure out a way to get rid of the faces. How do you do it?"

"I told you," he said as he flicked an ash off of his pants leg, "I get cold. Those faces you talk about. I don't see 'em."

"Damn," I replied, "You and my buddy Dally sure are two peas in a pod. Except for some reason you're thrivin' and he just couldn't."

We just sat there in silence for a minute playing with our cigarette smoke.

"What do ya mean when you say 'Socs'?" he finally asked.

I chuckled a little bit. You get so used to your own world sometimes that you forget not everyone grows up the same way. "That's what we call you rich boys around Tulsa."

"Huh, never had a name before. I guess it digs okay."

"Where are you from, anyway? In all our yellin' you've never said."

"Kansas City. The Missouri side, not Kansas."

"That make a difference?"

"Damn straight it does."

After a few more seconds, I stared down at the weed in my hand.

"Hey, I thought you were out. Where'd you get these?"

A slow, hyena-like smile spread over his face.

"You should learn to lock down your stuff tighter, Curtis."

I couldn't help but smile back.

"You realize I still don't like you, right?" he clarified.

"'Course not," I replied.

Crazy world. This morning I was playing poker and plannin' a bachelor party. Tonight, I had murdered seven people and was sittin' here calmly smoking. Seven. How'd you handle this, Darry, if it'd been you? I'm right glad that's a hypothetical question you'll never have to answer. Told you I'd protect you. I'll pay a price, but I'm okay with that.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16 - It's All Randle's Fault

 _Soda,_

 _Darry's still sleeping, so I figure I'll tell you the story. He might tell you his own, and if that's the case, then you can decide for yourself which one is more truthful. Make yourself comfortable, and if you're around anyone who's sleeping or within earshot of some VC sniper, then you'd best move because you'll probably be laughing. Last night was Darry's bachelor party._

 _It all started innocently enough. Steve showed up first from the DX with a few six packs before Darry even got home. He made himself comfortable and got to work on the mountain of leftovers in the fridge. I'd forgotten how much that guy can pack away! Come to think of it, it's been awhile since I've seen him. I know, I know, I've got my head wrapped up with a girl and she's got it floating up in the clouds. Don't care. Janey's better company than Randle any day, and I don't think you could argue with that. Anyway, a little while later, Two-Bit came loping in with a bottle of whiskey. There was already a fair amount missing, but then again, look who we're talking about. Darry came in a minute later, or at least tried to. Two-Bit wouldn't let him in without taking a shot. Now you know Darry ain't much of a drinker because of his health and all, but he did because, well, it's tradition I guess. I could tell pretty early on I was gonna be the only one staying sober all night._

 _Steve found a fight like you suggested. We drove out of town to some old shell of a barn in the middle of nowhere. I've always known Steve was crazy, but this topped it. Never in my life have I seen such a dangerous, mixed-up place. Now, I really hope you've never been there before because if you have, I might have to question your intelligence. Normally Darry wouldn't have set foot near a place like that, but Two-Bit had gotten a few more shots of the whiskey down him on the way, and Darry ain't used to the hard stuff. When he's been drinking, he seems up for about anything. Inside was a mix of businessmen, hoods, cowboys, bookies, and dealers. A few workin' girls too. Two-Bit ran off after one of them and we didn't see him for a long time. We got up near the fight, and it was brutal. Definitely not a wrestling match with rules. Here there were no rules except the first one to cry chicken or stop moving lost. Like I said, it was brutal, and the bets were flying, and so was our brother. All of that tuff exterior and control he always has goes completely out the window when there's liquor involved. He was about ready to throw all of our money out the window too except I picked his wallet out of his pocket and made myself scarce for awhile. I've got the skills of a hood even though we all know I ain't one. It helps when the person's flat drunk. I took Steve's keys too while I was at it. No way was I getting in a car with any of them driving._

 _After a few matches, Two-Bit showed up with a couple other girls and tried to get Darry to go with them. He said it was his treat. Luckily there was some of our real brother left inside that drunk mess. He mumbled out something about how Hannah would kill him, planted a giant kiss on the blonde and then on Two-Bit, and went back to watching the fight. I know you ain't met Hannah yet, but Darry was right. She's the kind of woman that won't take foolishness from anyone. She'll call you out on it and it never crosses your mind to argue. I like her, and I think she's good for Darry. You'll like her too when you meet her. She's pretty quiet, but quick with a joke and a smile. Smart too, and one hell of a cook. Yeah, you two will get along just fine when you get back._

 _Well, we finally left that hell hole, but the other three weren't ready to go home yet apparently. As I was driving along some back road, Steve reached over the seat and tugged the steering wheel right. Man, we almost all died because of your idiot friend. I managed to keep the car from flipping, but we did ditch it and got stuck. The guys were just laughing about that. Yeah, it was real funny. When I asked him why he did that, you know what he had to say? He said, "I wanted to see the cows!" And he was right. He'd crashed us into a cow pasture._

 _They all tripped out of the car and Two-Bit headed for the fence hollerin' about "Tippin' 'em all!" And that's what he tried to do. With a beer bottle in one hand and a smile on his face, he slammed his whole body against the nearest cow and then got his ass slammed on the ground. That cow wasn't moving. We were all doubled over laughing, and then Steve figured he had to outdo him. He shouted "Well, if you can't tip 'em, then let's ride 'em!" while he stood on top of his own cow which happened to actually be the bull of the bunch. That bull didn't like that too much and bucked him straight off on his face. Serves him right. They guy's been around enough rodeos to know a bull from a cow and that you don't mess with a bull. There must have been a rock in the field because when he came staggering back up, his face was a bloody mess. He'd broken his nose. You'll see it in all the wedding pictures Darry'll send you. There's no way it'll heal before then. He staggered across the field toward us just free bleeding all down his shirt and the idiot was laughing his fool head off. After awhile of trying to stop it, he gave up and took his entire shirt off to use. About the time the shirt was getting soaked through, we decided we'd better go, so we pushed the car out of the ditch. Luckily it didn't take too much damage. We ended up spending the rest of the night at the hospital while they tried to fix Randle's nose. The docs said it's been broken so many times that there isn't much left holding it all together except for scar tissue! At least it wasn't Darry. Then Hannah would have killed us!_

 _I really wish you were there. You'd have had a blast with everything, I'm sure. Things just aren't the same without you. I don't mean to say that to make you feel down or anything, I just wanted to let you know that we all miss you. I miss you._

 _Love,_

 _Ponyboy_

I held the letter to my chest as tears streamed wildly down my face. Most were from laughter, but some might have been from homesickness and even a little jealousy. Of course, that's when Dixon chose to walk in the tent.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" he asked with his eyebrow cocked and a sneer on his face.

"Nothin'," I swore, "Ever heard of cow tipping?" and I dissolved back into laughter and looking completely deranged. Dixon just shook his head, shoved his cup of coffee at me and replied as he started backing out of the tent, "Whatever you've got, I don't want it. I'm outta here."

I re-read the letter five more times before I had to go on duty.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17 - Another Face

Darry's next letter was a few weeks in coming. He must be pretty busy I thought with a grin. This one came in a thicker envelope than the others. Excitedly, I ripped it open and dumped not only the letter, but several pictures out in my lap. I made myself wait to look at the pictures and began to read. He detailed out the whole day, but conveniently left out anything about his bachelor party. I guess Pony was pretty accurate in his tale of that adventure.

 _I couldn't stand to look at her Soda; she was so beautiful that I thought she couldn't be real. Of course, I couldn't look away from her either. And before you say it, I know I sound like a sap, so lay off. Just wait til you meet her..._

He was right; he did sound like a sap, and I was happy for him. I've never heard Darry talk about a girl like that. He'd let me in on some of his high school bull sessions, but he was always pretty arrogant. Those girls didn't mean anything to him. He'd grown up since then.

 _I had to beat up on my groomsmen during the party. The morons decided our cake cutting was a prime time to attack me with a ball and chain from the joke shop. I'm betting Two-Bit was the leader, but it's not like Pony talked any sense into him. Now I'm pretty relaxed with jokes like that, but that was shit timing. I could tell Hannah wasn't happy, but she took it in good stride. She'll get them back later..._

I was shaking my head and laughing by now. If I'd been there, I'd have been chaining him right along with them. He'd have beat on me too, and we'd have all high-tailed it out of there bustin' a gut.

 _Pony did a fair job standin' up with me as best man. It shoulda been you, but he made you proud. I missed having you by my side. After all, you've been right there since I wasn't even four yet. I don't remember much before you came along. It was wrong not having you there on one of the best days of my life. Now I've gone all sentimental on you. Sorry Little Buddy. I hope you enjoy the pictures, and bring that tuff head back to us soon._

 _Love Always,_

 _Darry_

I followed his directions and flipped to the pictures. The first one I flipped over was their formal wedding shot. Good for you, man! Hannah was a fine looking chick. They looked good together. I studied her for awhile, and decided Pony was right. She was a no guff kinda girl, but there was a wild glint right in corner of her eye and a slight smirk on her lips. I was gonna like her just fine if I ever got home to meet her. Then I looked at Darry. He looked like he'd just won the lottery, the Nobel Peace Prize, and an all expenses paid trip to Key West all at once. He was absolutely beaming. Then I flipped to the other picture. This one was… not so formal. This was of the whole wedding party, which included the gang. It was priceless, and I had to hold back my tears. Everything I was missing in the world was right there. Two-Bit with a bottle in his hand and a blonde bridesmaid on his arm. Steve surrounded by two good looking brunettes letting out a mad howl. Pony standing relaxed and cool by Darry just surveying the scene. And in the middle, Darry and Hannah again not giving a hoot about the hoods and broads around them. I stopped my tears and turned on a grin. Too bad I wasn't there. I could have taken one of those girls off of Steve's arm. The one on his right was real cute…

"Curtis! Time to move out. We've got to run some aid to a village two miles south. Meet us at supply."

"Thanks, Abrams," I responded and tucked the two new pictures in my uniform pocket right next to the one of our family I'd brought with me and picked up my rifle.

A couple hours later, we were working in the village. They'd recently been hit by a rush of burnings, so we were helping to rebuild and treating some minor burns and cuts and stuff. That was actually quite a lot of what we did, civilian aid for these war torn South Vietnamese villages. For the most part, I loved it. There would always be some kids hanging around, and a kid is just a kid no matter what country they're from. They always start climbing all over you wanting piggy back rides and turnin' you into a human jungle gym. There were always a few shy ones you had to draw out with a piece of candy or two, but they had the same shining trust in their eyes once you did. Today I was on med duty though. It's pretty common because I've had so much experience patching people up after fights, or an accident. Growing up in a house of three boys and a whole peck of friends, there were a lot of accidents. We figured out the more we patched up ourselves, the less trouble we got in.

I was working on a young teenage girl with a pretty nasty gash on her forehead. From what I could gather, her house was one that was burned, and as she was trying to get some things out, one of the roof poles collapsed and caught her as it fell. She's lucky. A few inches in either direction and things could have been much worse. We also help to dig pit graves too. With so many dead, individual ones ain't always practical, so we have to dig these huge pits and then we just pile the dead ones in there and cover them with lime and add some more until we can't fit no more. That was one of the harder things to get used to. Actually, you never get used to it.

The girl was just staring at me the whole time I was working on her. I just flashed her a smile, and she looked down shyly. Apparently I still had my signature Sodapop charm. Some of these Vietnamese girls were pretty cute, but I'm still thinking I'll wait until I get back home to try that kind of adventure again. Some of the G.I.s married some of the local girls, but it was a big hassle to get it recognized, and even harder to get them over stateside. If you did get them stateside, then you had a whole other mess waitin' for you from a bunch of stupid people. No thank you. I ain't got the energy for that even if my brother's would probably be pretty understandin'. I finished up with the girl and flashed her another smile and sent her on her way. Then I looked over at Abrams who was on kid duty. He was really good with them and looked like he was having a great time while doing it. Some days our work ain't so bad. I packed up the med kit and headed his way.

About halfway over, everything changed. I heard a single shot and Abrams just kinda jerked and fell down along with the kid on his back. My world slipped back into slow motion. I know I was runnin', but it took an eternity to get to him. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Dixon runnin' to the tree line. I slid down next to Abrams and pulled the kid off his back and laid him down and then rolled Abrams over, and was met with blank eyes. Eyes that a few heartbeats ago had been full of laughter and life. I heard a strangled sounding voice screaming for the medic. I'd find out later it was me screamin'. I also found out that he'd been shot in the back straight through the kid and straight through the heart. He never stood a chance. Our medic was by my side in a few seconds, gave Abrams and the boy a quick once over and just put his hand on his shoulder and knelt down beside me.

"Do something, will ya! Ain't that what you're here for you worthless piece of -"

"He's gone Curtis, there's nothing either one of us can do for him now. Kid either. They're gone. You know I'd do something if I could."

I bent over the body of the man I'd lived with and fought with for the better part of a year. A man I considered a friend if not a brother. The man who'd I'd been plotting pranks with just yesterday. He wasn't gone. Any second he'd wink at me like it was all a big joke.

"Fuckin' tunnel rat snipers," Dixon came back with a quiet curse, "Can't win against them because we can't get to them! Damn. He's gone, isn't he?"

"Shut the hell up, Dixon. Help me move him inside."

A few minutes later, we had him back in the same hut I'd been working in just a bit ago. I just stared at him trying to will him into coming back around. The mind's a pretty powerful thing, but not that powerful. I noticed a gold chain hanging out of his shirt. I'd noticed it before, but never thought too much about it. Curiosity got the better of me and I pulled it out. What I found at the end of the chain was a small golden Star of David. You think you know a man, but most of the time there's always something you don't know. What else didn't I know about you Daniel? From that night on, there was a new face added to my dreams.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18 - No More Abrams

 _Dear Mr. and Mrs. Abrams,_

 _Usually our CO takes care of these letters, but I asked special permission to be the one to write to you. This is the hardest thing I've ever had to write, but I hope it does you some good. Your son was a good friend of mine, and I was there when he died. I thought you'd like to know that he died happy. I know that's an odd thing to say as we're in the middle of a war zone, but it's true. He went out laughing with a smile on his face._

 _Daniel was a good man and a good friend. I trusted him with my life, and we had a lot of good times I'll always remember. I won't sugarcoat it; Daniel was a good soldier which meant he was good at killing. It's part of our job, and he saved my skin more than once. However, he wasn't a cold man. He never got a thirst for killing. He only killed because it was his duty and he had to. I don't want you thinking he died a cold, hard war machine. In the most important ways, he was the same bright, caring man you raised. You did a real good job with him and you should be proud of the man he was._

 _He talked about you often, so I feel like I almost know you. If I'm one of the lucky ones and make it back home, I would like it if we could get together. There are too many stories to tell to fit in a letter like this. If you want, I would love to share them. I will miss your son a lot, and will remember him forever._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Prvt. Sodapop Curtis_

I finished the letter pretty quickly, but it took a lot longer to seal the envelope. It seemed too final. Like if I didn't actually finish it, there might be a chance this would all change. Finally, I did and delivered it to the CO. I came back to the Pit to find it wasn't empty. Rainier was sitting on his cot, and he looked up at me when I came in. His eyes scared me. For such a calm, quiet guy, the power behind those eyes could have made the most badass of soldiers run.

"We need to talk," he stated simply. I moved to my own cot and he got up to join me. "We've got to take out those tunnels. I'm sick and tired of them taunting us with them."

I nodded. "You've got a plan, don't you? I can see it in your face."

He nodded silently in return with a dead set look of determination, and Abram's voice played in my head. _I'd hate to see what he'd come up with if he ever finds a true enemy._ He now had an enemy. A reason for revenge. The VC had made the mistake of making this personal to him, and they'd pay for it.

Over the next few minutes, he filled me in on his plan, and it was masterful. He ended with, "I have no right to ask it of you, Soda, and I understand if you refuse."

"Has the CO approved this?"

"Not yet, but he will." He sounded so confident that I couldn't argue. It was a dangerous plan, but it would be effective. I thought back to my brothers safe at home. There was a real chance I might not come out of this. Then my thoughts turned to the men around me who weren't safe. Who, at any moment, could be shot in the back without ceremony by a sniper or trip a land mine and be blown to kingdom come. These men were also my brothers. They may not be blood, but I had a duty to them. If I could help make it to where each one of them had a better chance of making it home alive and whole, I had to do it. There would be no more Abrams if I could help it.

"I'm in."

"Are you sure?"

I nodded. "No more Abrams."

He nodded back. "No more Abrams," he agreed.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19 - Pick Your Battles

It was early on a Saturday morning, and I woke up to a mouthful of tangled blonde curls. Now, most people wouldn't find that appealing, but I loved it. It meant that I wasn't dreamin'. Two months in, and married life was great. I slipped quietly out of bed and went to start making some coffee.

A bit later, just as the percolator was starting to brew, I felt a familiar pair of arms wrap around me.

"Mornin', Darlin'"

"G'Morning."

We just stood there for awhile still in a comfortable early morning trance mesmerized by the percolating coffee.

"Do you not have work today?"

"No, work's been a bit slow. I was hopin' to get some of the work done on our own house for a change."

A wicked grin spread over Hannah's face. "Hmmm… so what are you going to start with? The peeling paint, the cracked shutter, the leaky faucet…"

I stopped her with a faked growl and threw her over my shoulder. "Alright, Woman, you've made your point, now let a man have some peace."

She started kicking and pounding on my back. "Darry, put me down! You know I ain't got any shorts on under this old shirt of yours!"

I started laughing, but put her down, "Darlin', I'm fully aware of that." I leaned down and pulled her into a deep kiss which got deeper by the second until she broke it and pulled back a little bit.

"Isn't this about the time Ponyboy's supposed to walk in on us?"

With a smile on my face, I replied, "Usually. He should be used to it by now," and I pulled her back to me to pick up where we left off. It didn't last long. My mind got sidetracked by the uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach, and I was the one to pull back. "Did you hear him come in last night?"

Her eyes narrowed, "No, I just thought that when you came to bed last night he was home. You usually wait up for him."

She wasn't wrong, but lately I'd been waiting up less and less. Since last night wasn't a school night, his curfew wasn't til midnight, and my bed looked a hell of a lot more attractive than the couch. Besides, Pony'd always been pretty good about gettin' himself home. The uneasy feeling still wouldn't leave my stomach, so I went down the hall to settle it.

I quietly pushed his door open, hoping he was still sleeping safely in his bed, and poked my head in. Then the door smashed against the wall as I saw a clearly unslept in bed.

"Damnit, Ponyboy!" I roared as I stormed back down the hall toward the front door. "Hannah, he's not here, I'm goin' out to look for him!" She caught me on the front porch.

"Darry, calm down. I'm sure he's fine and just got caught out last night. He'll probably be home in a little while. Give him a chance. Besides, you ain't got a shirt or shoes on and don't even know where to look."

Leave it to her to bring logic and rationality back to a situation. Couldn't she just let me be angry? But as the old, weather-beaten boards of the porch threatened to spear my feet with splinters, I had to admit she was right. I could think of one or two likely places he might be, but for the most part it would be a wild goose chase.

Most of the fight left me, and I let my shoulders fall in defeat.

"You're probably right. Glory, that boy's going to put me in an early grave. I need some of that coffee." She gave me a halfhearted smile, grabbed my hand, and we made our way back to the kitchen.

An hour later, I was out scraping off some of the peeling paint so I could eventually put a new coat on. I was scraping a little harder than necessary, but at least it gave me something to do while I was waiting on Pony. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught some movement in the bushes on the side of the house, and Pony stuck his head out. He looked around, and then his eyes landed on me and his face fell. He was mouthin' some things I'm sure I didn't want to hear. I slid down the ladder and made a beeline straight for him, my anger building again now that I knew he was safe.

"Where the hell have you been all night? I woke up this mornin' to your empty bed not knowin' what to think. Has nothing I've told you stuck? If you get caught out, you know you gotta call, and I don't care what time! Glory, Pony, do you never learn? Where were you?"

By the time I finished my tirade, I was shouting loud enough for them to hear all the way in Nebraska. I was past the point of caring what the neighbors thought; I just wanted answers.  
"I was out," was the only answer he gave me.

"Out? That's all you got to say? 'I was out' Damnit, Ponyboy, get your ass in the house."

I didn't leave him much choice to obey me or not. I grabbed him by the shoulder and half hauled him in the door and set him on the couch. "You are so grounded, Buddy Boy. I hope you haven't made any plans with Janey because you can count on not seeing any part of her for a good long while. Wait… Is that where you were, at Janey's? Pony, I swear, if you and she are gettin'..."

This time, I was the one to get cut off. As soon as I mentioned Janey, Pony's face got cold and he shot up off the couch and got in my face.

"No, Darry, I wasn't with Janey. Shit! I ain't dumb enough to go get a girl knocked up at 16! You know, there are some times when I use my head. I'm surprised you even noticed I was gone anyway! I figured you'd be glad I was outta your hair for awhile!"

"What's that supposed to mean, Little Man?"

Actually, he wasn't so little anymore. He was almost eye level with me now, and he was starting to put on some pretty solid muscle. Soon, I wouldn't even have that advantage over him.

"Come on, Darry! You know I like Hannah and all, but seriously, the way you two act makes me feel like I've tagged along on your honeymoon. You barely realize when I am here, so I didn't figure it'd matter if I wasn't."

That slapped me right across the face. "Pony, you should have said something."

"Right, what was I supposed to say? It's just awkward. You've got yourself a different family now, Darry, and I'm glad for you. I just don't know where I fit in anymore."

"Here, Pony, right where you've always been!"

"That ain't true, so just stop pretending things haven't changed! If Soda were still here, it wouldn't be so bad, but it's just me living with my brother and his wife now. It's not our family home anymore, it's yours and I just happen to have a bed here."

I was too stunned to speak. I'd driven my little brother from his own home. We were in a silent face off until Hannah came quietly up. "Sit down, both of you."

We did, and then she sat between us and turned to Pony. "We're all adjusting and it's gonna take some time. I think we all realize that, or at least we do now. Ponyboy, I'm sorry you've been feeling that way. Darry and I will try to ice things down a bit. You've got to talk to us though; we're not mind readers."

"Yeah, I know," He had his arms crossed and was slouched down, but he was listening to her.

"No more nights out without at least a phone call? It's not fair to us, and you know that."

"I guess. Listen, I am sorry I worried you."

"Good. Now I've got to go pick up some groceries. You two need to stay here and talk and try to remember that you're brothers. Darry, walk me to the car?"

I followed her outside and we leaned against the car, and I just ran my hands through my hair. I wouldn't have been surprised if I started pulling clumps out.

"Darry, he's safe. That's the important thing, right?"

With a sigh and slumped shoulders, I admitted, "Yeah, I guess."

"You've got to pick your battles with him, Darry. Just calm down and listen. Usually when people act out, there's a reason behind it, and you won't find out what it is unless you listen."

I could hear Sodapop's voice ring out through every word my wife just said. That's why it usually fell to him to mediate whatever confusion existed between Ponyboy and me. They both got people far better than I ever could.

"I hear you, Darlin'. Lord, you sound just like Soda."

"Well then if that's the case and you've heard this from Soda before, maybe Pony isn't the only one who doesn't learn from things the first time."

With a peck on lips, she got in the car and drove away. I made my way back to the house. Before I opened the door, I took a deep breath.

I stepped back into the living room, but Pony wasn't on the couch anymore. I heard the icebox open, so I made my way to the kitchen. He was standing at the counter with the chocolate cake in front of him. I pulled a couple of forks out of the dish drainer, walked up next to him, and took a bite straight off the cake. Pony eyed me suspiciously.

"No plate? Won't Hannah get on to you about that?"

"She ain't here, is she? Don't ask, don't tell. If we neaten up the edge when we're done, she'll never know. Come on, take a bite."

He chuckled, but joined me. My wife may be a bang up cook, but I still held the prize for cake. Even hers couldn't top mine. To be fair, I've had a lot of practice at it. After a few bites, I decided to start the conversation.

"So where were you last night?"

"I stayed the night on the Shepard's couch."

"Really? I've slept on that crap pile before. You must have been desperate to chose that over your own bed. Are we really that bad?"

He smiled at me and started laughing. It was good to see him laugh. Hell, it was good to just see him. It all flooded to me how little he'd really been at home over the past year since Soda left.

"Yeah, you sure are. But seriously, it's good. I'd rather you guys be all mooney like that than fightin' all the time like a lot of married folks do. Don't lose that, okay?"

Now I was chuckling. "Sure, Little Buddy, we'll try not to. So what were you doing over at the Shepard's? Do I really want to know?"

He hesitated.

"Well, Janey's out of town for the weekend, so I was palin' around with Curly. We started at the drive-in, but the movies were pretty junky so we left. We ended up playin' poker back at his place with a couple other guys. We got into a couple bottles of whiskey he found in Tim's stuff, and we all got pretty smashed up. I wasn't so far gone though that I didn't know that you'd beat my head in if I came home drunk. Between that and the honeymoon happening here, the couch looked pretty good.

My blood started to get heated again. He knew better than that! Especially knowing how closely the fuzz watched the Shepard house. I did want to beat some sense into that fool head of his. _Pick your battles, Darry._ I breathed out slowly and took another bite of cake. Pony was side-eyeing me waiting for me to start the fight back up. I kept my voice calm.

"Pony, we've talked about drinking before, so I ain't going to say it again. But if you get hauled in by the cops, I ain't gonna bail you out, and I won't be able to stop the State from takin' you. Now, me gettin' married has bought us a little goodwill from the social worker, but not that much. You dig?"

He stabbed at the cake. "Yeah, I know."

"Boy, Curly's gonna be hurtin' pretty soon once Tim finds out his stash is gone. I'd steer clear of there for awhile if you don't want to be taken down a peg or two with him. You about done with the cake?" He nodded and took a final bite and put it back in the icebox. "You wanna help me scrape paint for awhile? It's kinda fun to see how big of a piece you can get off at once."

He raised his eyebrow at me blatantly doubting the amount of fun that could actually be had. "Actually, I thought I'd go write to Soda. It's been awhile since I've sent him anything."

"Yeah, me too. How about a compromise? Peel paint with me for an hour, and then we can both do some writing. Fair enough?"

"Sounds good, Darry."


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N - I don't really do Author's Notes, but I wanted to take just a minute to thank all of my readers, especially those that have taken the time to leave a (or many) review(s).**

Chapter 20 - Meeting in the Middle

 _Dear Sodapop,_

 _I guess I should introduce myself; I'm your sister-in-law, Hannah. This feels a little strange since I feel like I already know you because of your brothers. With how close you all are, I think it's impossible to know one of you without knowing the other two. Life with those two has been… interesting, but I'm sure you know that. I've been trying to take care of them the best I can for you, but you're a tough act to follow. Am I right in thinking that you're the reason I ended up eating purple scrambled eggs the other morning?_

 _I'm going to get down to the serious stuff for a minute here. Neither of them know I'm sending this, so anything we say will stay just between us. Do you ever feel like a tug-of-war rope around your brothers? Like they're both trying to run in opposite directions and you're trying to keep them from splitting apart? Most of the time it doesn't even seem like they know why they're fighting. They've have a few pretty explosive episodes over the past few months. With Pony going off to college in the fall, there's been a lot of stress and difference of opinion. They can't seem to agree on where he's going to go or what he's going to do when he gets there. Pony wants to study literature, but Darry is adamant about him going for something more "practical" like business or accounting. I'm afraid introducing the new dynamic between Darry and me didn't help. I think Pony feels a little outnumbered, and I don't really blame him. He seems to always been a little on edge like we've got him backed into a corner. It's intense with them. They would kill or die for each other without a second thought, but the ordinary day-to-day life challenges have them beat. I love them both, but they're about as bull-headed as they come. I've tried to fill the job of go-between that you left. Neither one has died, run out, or gotten locked up yet, so I guess I'm doing alright. Maybe when you get home, we'll be able to wrestle the two Alpha wolves into submission and finally get some peace. Strength in numbers, right?_

 _Anyway, they can't wait to have you home. We all can't. Even though you don't come home for another couple months, they've been planning a few surprises. That's one thing that they actually really don't argue much about. They've been having fun with each other planning. Steve and Two-Bit have been coming around some more too to help. I won't spoil too much though; you'll just have to wait to find out for yourself._

 _Waiting Anxiously,_

 _Hannah Curtis_

 _P.S. I'm going to let you in on a little secret, Uncle Soda. Darry doesn't even know yet, so keep your mouth (or pen) silent for awhile. I figure you'd like to be the first to know something for a change instead of the last, but this has to stay between us._

Oh boy. My house is definitely going to be different when I get home, but I can live with that. The changes seem like good ones. I really hope I get to see them. I'm not gonna lie; Hannah's letter surprised me. I hadn't expected to actually hear anything from her directly until I met her when I got back stateside. Bold could be added to the list of adjectives my brothers had already used to describe her. Maybe a little desperate too; she sounded tired. I knew better than anyone how exhausted that caught in the middle role could make a person. Pony and Darry have learned to read me, so they know when to give me a break most times, but I don't guess Hannah's got that through their heads yet. Then again, it took me breaking down for them to start listening to me.

 _Dear Hannah,_

 _Wow, just wow! Congratulations! Don't worry about Darry hearing it from me; my lips are sealed. We'll let him think he's the one who told me when you finally decide to clue him in on the arrival of the newest Curtis boy. It's gotta be a boy; us Curtises wouldn't know what to do with a little girl._

 _About my brothers… you're right; bull-headed sums 'em up just about perfect. If anyone understands how tiring it can be getting stuck between those two when their hackles are up, it's me. You've just got to be straight with them. Subtlety is lost on those two when they're like that. It took me having a near breakdown and running out of the house before I was able to make them see I'd had my limit. I love my brothers, but sometimes you've got to grab them by the ear and drag them into the light. You sound like you're managing them just fine though, and you're fitting in well. From what Pony tells me of you, I'd swear the boy was half in love. You've definitely got his respect even if he doesn't always show it. I'm not even gonna start with what Darry says about you. Just know that it's all good things though some might make you blush._

 _I'm gonna write to Darry and see if I can't get him to lighten up on the whole college major subject. He's gonna have to come to terms that Pony's near a man now and that's a decision he needs to be making himself. It all comes from a good place though. Accounting is a more stable career than a writer, and Darry's all about being practical. He wants something different for Pony than living hand to mouth, but there's no forcing him into something he doesn't want, and Darry'd be a fool to try. Besides, can you imagine Pony crunching numbers for a company all day long? He'd be flipping that desk upside down inside of his first week! Naw, the boy's a writer and dreamer pure and simple, and there's no changing that._

 _My time's running a bit short, so I've got to end this pretty soon. There's a lot of things about to happen over here, but I ain't gonna worry you with the details. Just know that I really hope to meet you soon face to face. Thanks for taking care of my brothers. Be sure to take care of yourself too, and my nephew._

 _Your Brother,_

 _Sodapop_

 _P.S. Do the kid a favor and give him a normal name. While mine and Ponyboy's names are surely original, it's a bear having to explain them to every single person you meet. Sometimes boring is a blessing, and I think he'd agree with me on that._


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21 - Sunrise Over Vietnam

 _Darry and Ponyboy,_

 _This is the strangest and hardest thing I've ever had to write in my life. If you're reading this, I guess I didn't keep my head low enough. Nope, that's not true. Around here, it's all a matter of luck. Smart, dumb, fast, slow, strong, weak… it doesn't matter. Some guys make it home, some don't. I guess I'm not one of the lucky ones. Or maybe I am. Most guys around here don't get the chance to write a final goodbye home._

 _I hate to leave you like this, but hear me loud and clear; I don't regret it for a second. This was my choice, and I'd make the same one again. What I did, I did in the hopes that a lot of other guys will get the chance to go home again, and I think that's worth it. One of my best buds around here didn't get that chance, so I did this for him. I did it the same as you would if it were me that got gunned down in the back with a coward's bullet. I did it for all those innocents that have been slaughtered just for being on the wrong side or just in the wrong place at the wrong time._

 _Now, I know you guys will be hurting, but you're strong, and you'll be fine. Pony, go and make something of yourself. You're the best of us, and if you waste any of that potential, I'll personally come back from wherever I am and haunt you until you straighten your ass out. Darry, with Pony taking responsibility for himself, promise me you'll try to find your step again. You gave up a lot for him and me, and I'll always be grateful to you for that. Try to get some of that old you back. Take care of that wife of yours too; she's a good woman. I'll give you the same warning I gave Pony; if you mistreat her, I'll come back for you too._

 _Well, I guess I'm the first to see Mom and Pop, so I'll say 'Hi' for you both. Don't be in too much of a rush to join us; enjoy your lives. Look at it this way, at least I went out tuff and handsome. I never had to get old, wrinkly, and weak like I hope you guys will. Damn... ending this is even harder than starting it._

 _Love You Forever and Always,_

 _Sodapop_

As I signed off on the letter, I looked up and saw the sun peaking through the trees in a pink and gold blaze. Sleep didn't come too easily anymore, so I had seen plenty of sunrises in this damn jungle, but this one was different. I just sat staring and drinking it all in. At times like this, you could almost forget you were in a warzone. Vietnam could actually be a pretty beautiful place once you got past all of the bullets, explosions, and bodies.

Quiet footsteps came up alongside me, and Dixon just stood there, arms crossed, looking at the same sunrise. We just stayed there in silence for a few minutes.

"I'm going down there with you," he said softly, still staring off.

"What? It can be done with one. You don't need to risk your own neck."

"Yeah, you could do it by yourself, Curtis. I don't doubt you on that you son of a bitch, but I'm still going."

"But why?"

"I have my reasons."

As he stood there, his expression never changed. He looked just like a statue. Who was I to argue? I'd just as much said the same thing to anyone who'd asked me why I was going.

"Fair enough," I agreed, "You write a letter home?"

"Nope," he replied still cold as stone. After a short pause, he continued, "There'd be no one who'd want to read it. If I don't make it back, it won't inconvenience my parents too much. About the only thing they might feel if I don't make it out of those fucking tunnels is irritation at having to rewrite their will since their only heir would be gone."

I considered him with a mix of confusion, anger, pity, and respect. I couldn't even imagine growing up in a house where your own family didn't even really know you or care that they didn't. After growing up in such an icy household, he had every right to freeze the whole world out, but here he was about to risk his own neck. I guess the Army gave him something to care about finally.

I stood up by him, "Listen, I know we've had our differences, but I'm glad you'll have my back down there." I lightly clapped him on the shoulder and headed toward the mess hall, but his voice made me turn back around.

"Curtis! Let's get those VC sons of bitches, alright?"

I smiled.

"Yeah, Dixon, let's do that."


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22 - Whiskey, Helmets, and Grease

"Sir?" I questioned as I pushed my head into my commanding officer's tent. He was a fair and a good man, but I still felt uneasy going into his office. The Colonel wasn't a large man, but I guess he's what most people would call a warhorse: strong, decisive, and with nerves of steel that would let him run straight through a barrage of mortar fire without batting an eye. I guess that's what comes from being a career soldier. He'd had the whole Korean War to work out any fears or reservations he might've had. Now, his whole personality broadcasted "I made it through one war, I don't guess this one will do me in either. Now, get out there and let's do what we came here to do." I genuinely liked him, hell, all of us around here did, but dropping into his office still made me feel like I was 14 again being called into the Principal's office at school for some fool idea or other.

"Door's open," the Warhorse responded without even glancing up from the stack of papers he was working on. As I got about halfway across the tent, he did glance up. "Curtis, I was wondering if you'd be dropping my way today. Have a seat. What's on your mind?"

"Well, Sir, I was wondering if you could do me a favor," I began hesitantly. As those words came outta my mouth, I saw his eyes darken, and then soften. It wasn't pity exactly, which is good. I can't stand pity. It was more sad than anything.

Calmly, he asked before I could continue,"You have a letter for me, Sodapop? One to send home?"

That surprised me for a second, but I recovered pretty quickly.

"Yes, Sir… I do. How did you know that's what I was here for?"

He just looked at me and sighed tiredly, "Son, this ain't my first rodeo. When a man's takin' on extra risk like you are, most like to leave something behind just in case. Usually it's a letter. Who's this one going to?"

I took the letter out of my jacket pocket and handed it to him. "My brothers, Sir."

He took it and slowly looked it over, "No sweetheart, parents…?"

"No, Sir, it's just been me and my brothers for awhile now. It's them I need to say goodbye to. Just in case."

"Fair enough," he nodded as he slid the letter into his desk drawer, "You a drinkin' man, Curtis?"

"Umm… On occasion, Sir," I answered a bit confused.

"What would you say to a shot of some fine Kentucky Bourbon? I keep a stash around for special occasions, and I'd say this is warranted. Consider it a thank you from every man Jack around here whose hide you're helping to save."

He dug back in his desk drawer and pulled out the bottle of whiskey and two glasses. With a solemn grin on his face, he poured the amber into the glasses and handed me one of the pair.

"Here's to me never having to send that letter."  
"Here's to all the good men we've lost over here."

"And to the brave ones still left in the fight. Bottoms up, Curtis."

We kicked back the whiskey and the Colonel put his glass down and let out a hiss of pleasure, "The Scots and the Irish ain't got nothing on Kentucky. Makes me feel back home even for just a split second. Dismissed, Private, and I'll see you back here at fourteen-hundred hours."

"Thanks, Colonel."

I headed back out and across the base to my tent. Dixon and Rainier were there each at their own bunk. They didn't talk much to each other; just too different I guess. They'd both talk to me though, so I guess some things never change. Always the middle man. James was pouring over some drawings and maps, and Dixon had his helmet out with a can of paint. I paused which got his attention and he looked up.

"I thought it needed a little decoration before the big event. What do you think? Think they'll get the message?" He balanced it on his finger and spun it around slowly so I could appreciate its full glory. On the front was written in bold letters "War Is Hell" and on the back… well… let's just say the back had a picture that was very descriptive about what the VC could go do to each other. Dixon wasn't much of an artist, but it got the point across.

This type of "art" was pretty common around here. It wasn't strictly uniform dress code, but it kept morale up and added some interest, so no one said anything about it. One guy had "Born To Kill" down both sides, and one of our more reluctant guys just had a big peace sign on the back. Simple enough, but like Dixon's drawing, it got his point across. The most interesting one I'd seen was a guy from another platoon. His was about half covered with tally marks. Nothing else, just the marks. I never could decide what that was about, but I had some theories. One theory was that he was marking off the days he'd been in Nam. Another theory was that was his kill count. I only saw him the once, and I didn't get the chance to ask.

"Yeah, they'll get your message alright, but the front don't make sense."

"What do you mean, Curtis? They've been saying this since… since... shit, I don't know when, but I sure as hell didn't coin the phrase. Please share how you're so much smarter than any other man around here."

I sighed, and kicked back on my own bed and thought for a second on how to put this into words.

"You go to church at all Dixon?"

"Yeah, sometimes. Why?"

"Well, so did I when I was little. Mom tried to take us as much as she could. It was this little church with this fiery damnation and hellfire preacher. He liked to spend a lot of time on the topic of Hell. So here's my question: Who's in Hell?"

Dixon shot me a raised eyebrow, "You're thinking too much, Curtis."

"Just answer the question, Jackass."

"I dunno. Satan… sinners…"

"Exactly! Who ain't there? Innocent people, that's who. So, if war is Hell, then why are most of the people caught up in a war innocents?"

Dixon set his helmet down and laid back against his pillow. "I never pegged you for a philosopher, Grease. What do you think, Brainiac? You've been lost in those maps and plans, but I know you've been listening."

Barely looking up, Rainier answered like he'd been part of the conversation the whole time. "My whole family are atheists. To us, Hell is just a construct used to coerce people into socially acceptable behavior. Kind of like boogeyman stories parents tell their kids. War is real, dangerous, damaging. Besides, Sodapop, I think Michael is just using the phrase as a common colloquial metaphoric expression. You're taking it too literally."

"There you go, Curtis, if Brainiac over there says you're taking something too literally, you know it's time to give up. Now give me your helmet. I've got some decorating to do on it."

"Uh-Uh. There's no way in Hell, literal or otherwise, that I'm letting you touch my helmet. I ain't gonna go out wearin' something that looks like you copied it off of a bathroom stall in some back alley dive bar. I got my pride."

"I'll get it one way or another. I'd rather save my energy for the VC, but I'll take you down if I have to. You'll like it, I promise. Besides, you've got something else to be doing."

"Really? Just what do I have to be doing?"

Dixon pulled something out of his pocket and lobbed it at me. I caught it and recognized it pretty quickly. A jar of hair grease. My jar of hair grease that I'd brought with me from home.

"What in tarnation?"

"Grab your comb and get to work, Grease. And wipe that stupid look off your face. I told you that you should lock down your stuff tighter. I saw it in your footlocker when I was taking those cigarettes weeks ago. Your hair's long enough now it should work alright. If you're going to bite it tonight in those tunnels, you wanna go out looking like you, right? So, get to work and give me your helmet."

"Fine, I give up. Have the damn thing," I answered as I chucked it at him. He got to work on the "improvements" as I headed over to our wash station. It was a rigged up set of a scrap of mirror and a chipped up bowl we'd traded off one of the locals. It worked alright for things like shaving and basic washing up. I looked at myself in the mirror as I opened up the jar. When I say "look at myself", I mean really look. Study might fit better, I guess. I didn't see too much difference really. A small scar here and there, but I still looked like me. But who was "me"? I sure wasn't the happy-go-lucky greaser kid from a couple years back whose main concerns were girls and cars. Or was it cars and girls? I guess the order they went in depended on how pretty the girl or how tuff the car. So if I wasn't that kid anymore, what had changed? Dixon had just called me a philosopher. I still ain't that smart, but I guess he's right, I've been thinking about a lot of real deep shit lately. There's been a lot to think about. A lot of new experiences, and experiences change people. That's Pony's territory right there. I was hassling him about how much of a bookworm he was one night a few years back, and he tried to explain the best he could. I've gotten to live over a hundred different lives, Soda. I've been a knight with King Arthur, I've floated down the Mississippi on a raft, I've run with a gang through the streets of London… Those adventures, those people, are as real to me as almost anything I've actually lived through. Pony didn't have to ever leave his house to have new experiences. He got the imagination in the family. I've always been more of a man of action, so I had to physically get dragged across the world in order to accomplish the same thing.

So, I wasn't the old me any more, but I could never claim to be a great thinker even though I'd definitely been doing more of that. Brave. That's what the Colonel had called me back in his office. Brave, nah, that was Darry's corner. He's the one who took on a family before he was even 20. Shoot, looking back, he even took care of all of my parents' funeral arrangements by himself. The morgue, the undertaker, the funeral director, the lawyer, social services… all of it. I hadn't realized until a couple years later how much he'd really handled. How much of his own feelings he'd had to sacrifice so Pony and I could grieve. But I guess I could be brave. Bravery and stupidity look a lot alike sometimes, so I'm not sure.

There was my answer. I was me with a couple layers added. When we were all together, I didn't have to be brave or smart. They had 'em covered. Here in Vietnam, I'd had to learn. But I'd added something else too. Or taken something away. There's a part of me that was numb. No matter how hard I tried, the killing didn't rattle me anymore like it used to. I don't know if it showed in my face exactly, but I could feel it. Or I couldn't feel it, and that was the problem. My kill count was up over a hundred now, and it'd hopefully be higher by tonight. If I died tonight, maybe my brothers would never know the killer I'd become.

My hair was slicked back now, and the man in the mirror came closer to resembling something like what I used to be, at least looks-wise. Funny. I almost felt like I was cleaning up just like I used to before a rumble. The hair wasn't quite long enough to look great, but it was something.

"Hey, Grease! You about done?"

"Yeah, Dixon. You?"

"You bet. Didn't have time for the paint to dry, so I did it with a pen. Catch."

I caught my helmet and looked at it. Right across the back was written "GREASER PROUD" in bold letters. Across the front, he'd written "War is War". And right on the side just about where my right temple would be was a little can of Pepsi-Cola with the year 1963 just underneath it. Damn he had a good memory. I'd told him about Dad's nickname for me and the accident on that crazy night in basic, and neither one of us had brought it up since. Words weren't needed, so I just nodded.

"Ready to go? Colonel's expecting us."


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23 - The Tunnels

"You worried the Brainiac ain't gonna pull through?" Dixon asked as we headed out of Henderson for what could easily be the last time.

"Not a chance. Those plans are solid, and he's too proud of his smarts to have 'em fail. You know he's been checking the plans about fifty times every night for the past week," I replied. After a second or two, I pushed a little further, "You know, he's got an actual name. You might try using it once in awhile."

"Of course he does, Dumbass. Don't we all? I don't hear you callin' me 'Michael' too often. Most often it's 'Jackass'."

"That's cause you are one. I use your last name sometimes at least. And I might not call you 'Michael' very often, but you ain't never called me 'Sodapop' or even 'Soda'. The closest you ever came was 'Coke Boy'."

"Too weird, Grease, too weird. Makes me think of a bottle of pop, and that thought puts you too close to my mouth for my comfort. What kinda hippie shit were your parents into anyway?

"Not hippies, just original. They were actually pretty straight-laced, especially for our neck of the woods. No drugs or any shit like that, just a few bottles of Bud in the fridge. I reckon we oughta shut up about now. We're past our patrol points."

"I know. I've made these patrols same as you."

We continued on in dead silence through the jungle. Everything I felt was electric. My skin was crawling with it. I swear I could even hear the bugs squirming on the tree trunks. My senses always soared before a fight, but this was more extreme than I'd ever felt. Next to me, Dixon looked cool and calm as we walked. I swear that man made Darry, the Ice Man, look positively warm and cuddly. But, like Darry, appearances could be deceiving. Maybe his stomach was doing flips inside him and he was a breath away from puking out his guts on the jungle floor. I doubted it, but who knows? All of the sudden, he froze. Really froze. Following his gesture, I looked ahead. Two VC scouts, but we saw them before they saw us. Stealth had been Abrams' specialty, but Dixon and I weren't slouches at it. We split up, flanked them, and slit their throats before they could make a sound.

"Curtis!" he whispered harshly at me as his eyes travelled to the bodies, "You thinkin' what I'm thinkin'? The clothes!"

"You'll get us shot by our own guys comin' out."

"No, listen. We just gotta use the shirts and the helmets. It'll help the bluff inside if anyone catches sight of us and we can rip 'em off quick as we're running out later. No friendly fire."

I just groaned and we started stripping them.

A little later, we were at the first tunnel entrance.

I dropped down first, saw it was clear, and whistled for Dixon to join. He dropped too, and we started setting the Claymores. These nasty things were anti-personnel mines that sent out a whole spray of shot by remote control. Death at the press of a button. We set up two at the entrance and two more about fifty feet back. We went back up the ladder. That was just the first one. There were four more entrances we had to rig.

We continued on and the next two went just as smooth as the first. Number four got sticky. We'd set the first pair of Claymores and about twenty feet on our way to set the second, Dixon dropped down about six inches and let out a sharp grunt. His foot had gone through a disguised mat. He hoisted himself out. It was about a four foot deep hole with bamboo spikes at the bottom. I wish that was the first one of those neat little tiger traps I'd seen, but they were common enough in the jungle. They were a favorite of the VC, and more than one of our guys had been a victim. If Dixon hadn't had such good reflexes, he'd have joined them.

"You okay?" I hissed.

"Don't worry about me. I just twisted my ankle. Set the damn mines so we can get out of here. Shit! They must've heard me."

We could hear voices coming from farther down. Think, Soda, think. Guns are out. They'd just draw more attention. They weren't under the same rules though. They'd have us down the second they came around that corner. Think! My eyes scanned frantically. There! About thirty feet away was a ledge across the top of the tunnel.

"Up! The ledge!" I spit out. We booked it and hoisted ourselves up a few seconds before three VC rounded the corner.

It was a storage nook we'd found. In the dim glow from the tunnel lights, I could make out stacks of clothes, boots, helmets… All U.S. and South Vietnamese. What the hell were they planning where they needed this many enemy uniforms stockpiled? Nothin' good, that's for sure. Right next to my right arm was a helmet about half covered with tally marks. All I could do was lay there staring at it and not breathing until the VC soldiers decided there wasn't a threat around and went back around the corner.

"Fuck, that was close."

"You ain't jokin'," I breathed, "You ain't jokin'. Let's go."

We set the other two Clays and headed to entrance five. That went smoothly too. Now came the hard part. Getting the tunnel rats where we wanted them so we could get our engineers down later to collapse those tunnels for good.

It was supposed to go something like this: We both drop down entrance 3, start running in opposite directions at breakneck speed dropping white phosphorous grenades as we go. We keep running like hell until we come out 1 and 5. The phosphorous flushes the VC out behind us, and as they get to the entrances, the Clays are set off and take them out. Snipers outside the entrances take out the few that might get past the WP and the Clays.

The problem: We only had a rough idea of the layout of the tunnels between the entrances, and as Dixon had proved, they'd put traps in their own damn tunnels. We also had to not get shot in the back running and be the first ones out so we didn't get suffocated by the Phosphorous, mowed down by the Clays, or shot by our own guys. Simple, right?

"How's your ankle?" I whispered before we were about back to 3.

"It'll hold. How's your luck?"

"We'll find out. Ready?"

"After you."

We dropped into the tunnel, gave each other a "see you on the other side" nod, and he dropped the first grenade. I ran like the wind ripping off the dead man's stolen clothes as I went. The rest was a blur. I ran, I jumped, dropped, climbed, turned, twisted… I never looked back at the chaos behind me. To look back meant death. Just because I was prepared to die didn't mean I was itching to. My lungs were burning. Keep running. Keep running.

BAM! I spun into blinding pain as I was slammed into the tunnel wall. A VC from out of a side room was all over me. I had to keep moving. We were in a full out fight to the death wrestling match. Move! His pistol went off and my world became white, blinding noise. My shoulder screamed. Then I barely rolled out of the way as his knife came toward my face. My own knife came up under him and he went still. Leaving my knife in his gut, I scrambled up. I could feel blood pouring down my face. I kept running. The ladder. My chest was burning, as I hauled myself out. Breathe… Breathe… I can't. I'm drowning. How the hell am I drowning on dry land? Guess you get to send that letter after all, Colonel. The blinding white took over.


	24. Chapter 24

Ch. 24 - East Side Steel

 _Pfffft! Slam! Scrape!_ This job and those sounds were some things in my life that hadn't changed in the past year. I don't suppose they ever would, at least not for the next thirty to forty years. Even after I retired, I'd probably still hear those sounds in my sleep. That's if I made it to retirement without hurtin' myself. Still, with the excellent views and the sun on my back, I could do worse. Yeah, I could definitely do worse.

"Darry! Darrrryyy!"

I didn't even have to look to know who that voice belonged to. I'd been hearing it most every day for the last seventeen years. I peaked over the roof I was working on and sure enough, there was Ponyboy speeding faster than a bullet down Magnolia Street. What in blazes was he doing this far out? This job was all the way on the west side. He was pushing the limits even for him.

"Darrryyyy!" The urgency in his voice had me worried something awful. I slid down the ladder and met him at the end of the drive.

"Telegram...Soda…" was all he could choke out before he doubled over with head between his knees. Pony could run alright, but he was used to pacing himself. This time, he hadn't. The fool had run the full 10 or so miles at top speed.

"Woah, Little Buddy. Easy. What's happened?"

"Telegram!" was all he choked out again, and that single word turned my blood to ice. There was only one place a telegram would be coming from, and the army didn't send out telegrams for gettin' a medal.

"Where?" was all I asked desperately.

Pony reached in his pocket and pulled out the telegram, and I reached out and took the crumpled pale yellow paper. I carefully smoothed it out before I turned it over. Part of me was desperate to know what it said. The other part of me wanted to wish it out of existence. But there was no mistaking that scrap of paper in my hand still damp with Pony's sweat. Who decided to give the damn Army paper anyway? They didn't do any good with it. All they did with it was rip kids away from their homes to go die in a never ending war. And then when they did die, they used more paper to tell the kids' families that they were dead. These days, no one wanted to see a Western Union delivery boy show up on their doorstep. At least not if you had someone you loved in service to Uncle Sam. It just as bad as when the fuzz show up on your doorstep in the middle of the night. You never forget that feeling.

Pony had finally recovered enough to stand up mostly straight. I swallowed.

"You know what this says?"

He shook his head and gulped out, "I just grabbed it and ran."

I moved nearer to him and put my arm around his shoulder. "Together then."

I carefully flipped the slip of yellow over and we read:

 _We regret to inform you that your Brother, Prvt. Sodapop Patrick Curtis, has been reported as seriously wounded in service of the Armed Forces of the United States in action against the hostile forces of North Vietnam. Our deepest sympathies are with your family. More information on your brother's condition will be forthcoming._

We just stood there in stunned silence until Pony squeaked out, "You mean…"

"Yeah. Yeah, Little Buddy. He's still alive."

I pulled him closer. This news was some of the best I could have hoped for. Isn't that a sick thing? I was glad my little brother was hurt, and pretty badly too by the sound of it. But, when you think about the alternative... Pony looked up at me after a few moments.

"You cryin', Darry?"

My cheeks were pretty wet. I guess I hadn't noticed.

"Yeah, I guess I am, but your cheeks ain't any drier than mine."

Pony grinned through his tears, "Look at us. A couple of grown men turned bawl babies."

"You know what, Kid? I don't think I mind it at all. Not right now. And I dare any man to try to laugh at me for it. We're gonna get to bring our brother home, Pony. It may not be for awhile yet, but it'll happen. Now, ain't you got somewhere to be? Run on now; I've got to get back to work before the boss docks my pay."

His grin was still splitting his face wide open as he turned to leave. He pulled up the edge of his shirt and wiped at the last few damp patches under his eyes. Only a few steps into his leavin', he turned back around and asked quietly.

"Darry? Ya mind if I have the telegram?"

If I'm being honest, I didn't really want to part with it just yet. I knew that before too long I was going to be thinking it hadn't really happened and need to look at the telegram for proof. But one look at Pony's face and I handed it over without another thought. He needed it more that I did right now.

"Hey, Pony, phone Steve and Two-Bit; will you? They'll want to know. And take it slow on the way back. You did good today, but your body needs a rest. On second thought…" I dug in my pocket and came up with a bit of change, "take the bus. And unless it's some old lady or a pregnant chick about to give birth, you sit. Don't let anyone make you stand. You've earned it today."

He beamed back at me, "Sure thing, Darry. See you at dinner."

After Pony started home, I climbed back on the roof. The wave of relief and happiness I'd been riding for the past few minutes started to break, and then it crumbled all at once into a massive flood of guilt and fear. What had I done?

I came home to a busy house later. Steve and Two-Bit had come over and it had turned into some kind of a party. The boys had the radio cranked up and they were well on their way to gettin' soused, Pony included. Now was not the time for honesty; let them celebrate tonight even if the celebration was a lie. The food smelled delicious as a walked through the house, but my stomach still turned at the thought of it. I went straight to my bedroom instead and just sat on the edge of my bed with my head in my hands. A few minutes went by, and the door opened softly.

"The boys said you'd come in. Are you gonna come and get some dinner? Darry, what's wrong?"

I peered up at my wife from my hands, "I screwed up, Hannah. I screwed up real good."

"Come on, it can't be that bad. Tell me what happened."

"It's Pony. Look at him out there happy and celebrating. It's a lie, Hannah, and I told it to him. I told him we're bringing Soda back, and I was just as giddy as them. But it's a lie."

"How is it a lie, Darry? He's coming back at some point. As soon as he's well enough to make the trip."

"Listen to me, Sweetheart. Some physical part of Soda might be coming back to us, but we really don't know. All that telegram said was that he was seriously injured, and that could mean anything. If it's a head injury, he might not even know who we are. We just don't know yet. It's too early for celebrating. I should know better. Pony's a dreamer and I know that, and it's my job to keep him grounded. I'm afraid he's expecting the same Soda that left to come waltzing through the door, and I encouraged it. I should know better."

She stepped closer to me and rested between my knees and took my face in her hands.

"It's never too soon for celebrating a life, Darry. He's alive, and that's what matters. We'll deal with the rest as it comes. We're East Side steel, you and I. Pony and Soda too. We don't break easily It's okay to hope and be happy, even for you. You don't have to play the realist all the time."

I pulled her closer and rested my head on her still-flat stomach. There should be a bump there by now, and I should know better than to hope too soon. It had been weeks since the miscarriage, but the devastation was still raw every time I was around her. This was probably the closest we'd been since it happened. God, I missed her. She began running her fingers through my hair in soothing circles.

"You know I love you, right?" I murmured into her.

"I know," she replied as she lifted my face for a kiss. "I've got to get back out there. Come join us when you're ready, okay?"

Later that evening found me out back sitting on the small patio. I heard the screen door squeal open behind me and Pony sat down and handed me a beer.

"You okay, Darry? You seem awful quiet tonight."

I just nodded silently, popped the top, and took a long drink.

"Pony, we need to talk about Soda."

"What about him?"

"You know he's not gonna be the same guy we sent off, right? He's gonna be different probably in a lot of ways."

Pony put down his own beer and looked at me dead on.

"I know, Darry. I ain't been livin' under a rock. I notice things. I notice what happens to a lot of guys that have come back from that jungle in the last 8 years. The ones who land up in the psych ward and the ones who land up as hobos and junkies because they just can't deal. And it scares the shit out of me to think that could be Soda when he comes back. I also notice words, Darry. I notice words like "seriously injured" on a telegram. I ain't naive. Best outcome I figure is he's lost a limb or had some bad burns or something. Worst is that he's completely paralyzed or a vegetable. Anyway, he's coming home, and we're not having to bury him at Ft. Gibson. I'm happy with that at least. We'll worry about the other stuff later. Besides, Soda's always down for a good party; it's never really mattered what the reason was. He'd sure as hell be in there rockin' the night away if the tables were turned and it was one of us."

I looked in stunned shock at my littlest brother who had the cheekiest, smartass grin on his face. Ain't it amazing how you can know a person their whole life and they can still surprise you? I guess I didn't give him enough credit. Looks like he does have some East Side steel in him.

"When did you become a grown up, Little Man?" I asked with a slight smirk on my lips.

"When you weren't lookin'" he responded as he picked his beer back up. "To Sodapop?"

I raised my own drink to his and replied, "To Sodapop."


	25. Chapter 25

25- The 95th Evac

"Private Curtis? Private Curtis, Can you hear me?"

I heard the voice. It was light and pleasant, soothing. Well, it would be those things without the "Private" part. Guess that meant I wasn't in Heaven. Don't think they'd call me that up there. Hell either for that matter. It was still a minute before my body caught up with my mind and I was able to answer. I didn't manage much, just a couple of weak grunts and I pried my eyes open a bit. Nope, definitely not Heaven. Not unless Heaven had installed fluorescent lights.

I rolled my head slightly over and was met with a face that might have been an angel though. Blonde hair, blue eyes… all she was missin' was the halo. Actually, she was kinda glowing. She smiled and then disappeared. I tried to watch where she went, but my body wouldn't cooperate. Finally, she appeared again with a man in a white coat. He started pokin', proddin', and talkin'.

"Welcome back, Curtis. What do you think; can you talk to me yet? It's okay if you can't. We've had you under pretty deep for a long time. Whichever Charlie got hold of you sure did a number."

"Where am I, Doc?" I managed to croak out. It didn't feel good, that's for sure. Everything felt kind of cottony though, like I was only feeling a little bit of what I should. I'll bet that'd wear off though and I'd be in for a world of fun.

"Ah, well, you're experiencing the fine hospitality of the 95th Evac Hospital otherwise known as Hell's Half Acre. Captain J.R. Wolk, Surgeon Extraordinaire at your service. Welcome to our corner of the war. You probably should have gone to the 91st, but all of their reservations were booked, so they sent you here. Now, don't try to sit up, your chest and stomach aren't going to like that. Just rest for now. You've got this nice bed in the post-op ICU; it'd be a shame if you had to leave it to go back into the operating room because you busted out some of those stitches in your gut. I did some of my best work on those too. Nells, hang another liter of plasma; he's draining an awful lot still from the shoulder and side. Private, I'll be around later to check back up on you. For now, listen to Nurse Carter, and she'll get you settled in. Let her know if there's anything you need."

He sailed back out of the room. I don't think the man ever took a breath. Kinda reminded me of Two-Bit when he'd get on a roll. Just a little bit. I cracked a small grin at that. Nurse Carter smiled back and asked, "What's so funny, Private?"

"Does he ever stop talking?" I rasped out.

She let out a musical laugh, "Only when he's sleeping. And even then, I hear more often than not, he's still talking. The other surgeons he rooms with have bought stock in ear plugs. He's a wonderful surgeon though. You're lucky to have him."

"We'll see how lucky I feel in a little bit. Whatever stuff you gave me is startin' to wear off. Hurts like hell." I wasn't exaggerating either. My entire body was one big mess of deep aches, stabbing pains, and fire. It was getting worse with each breath.

"I can get you some more. Just let me check your chart first." She started moving to the end of my bed, but I stopped her.

"Actually, can you help me write a letter first? My mind's pretty clear right now, but that stuff'll make it all fuzzy again."

"Are you sure you're up for it?"

I just nodded. She left and came back a minute later with a pen and paper.

"You just talk, and I'll do my best to copy it down. Who's this going to?"

"My brothers, Darry and Ponyboy."

She looked up from the paper through her eyelashes at me, "Ponyboy? Is that his real name?"

There it was. The million dollar question Pony and I'd been asked since the day Momma and Daddy filled out our birth certificates. That question told me that I most definitely was still alive and on Earth. I laughed. It hurt like the very fires of Hades, but I couldn't help it. Something so stupid, but I just couldn't stop.

"Sure is. Haven't you seen my name, Nurse? Pony's shouldn't have surprised you. But, you have no idea how good it is to hear you ask it. No earthly idea."

She grinned a little hesitantly, but I guess she decided that I wasn't a psych case because she let me continue.

 _Dear Darry and Ponyboy,_

 _I'm guessing you heard that I got hurt over here. The Army may take forever and a day to requisition basics like decent food, but apparently they're pretty on it with the injury and death notices. Sorry if the telegram worried you when it got delivered. I know what you must have been thinking. I'm alive, if only just. I'm at the 95th Evac, but that's about all I have to tell you. Haven't seen any of it but the bed I'm lying in. Apparently I've got all sorts of things to heal from…_

I stopped her just then.

"What injuries do I really have, anyway? I kind of remember what happened before, but there's no tellin' what I don't. I'm just one big pile of pain right now, so it's impossible to tell."

"Well, it's a pretty long list: a few broken ribs, collapsed lung, close range gunshot through the shoulder with some burns around it, and multiple knife wounds with a particularly bad one on your right side."

I knew I was banged up, but damn. Doc was right; those tunnel rats did a number on me.

"They don't need to know all that. They'll heal, right?"

"Eventually. That shoulder will probably always give you some trouble though."

"Just put 'but the Doc says I should be alright eventually.'"

… _, but the Doc says I should be alright eventually. Don't know when I'll be coming home, but I can't wait to see you all. Darry, take care of that wife of yours and my nephew. Can't wait to meet him. Pony, enjoy your last bit of time before college. I hope I can make it home in time before you go. Don't worry about me. They're taking real good care of me._

 _Love You Always,_

 _Sodapop_

 _P.S. There better be a whole chocolate cake in that icebox when I get home. A year is too long. Far too long._

I watched Nurse Carter as she finished writing. Now that the anesthesia fog had gone, I could tell that she was older than I'd first thought. Probably in her thirties. She bit her lip as she wrote and finished with a flourish. I gave her the address and she left the room. There was so much more I wanted to put in that letter, but it'd have to wait. Without the letter to distract me, the pain came forward with a vengeance. It didn't like being ignored that long, I guess. All I could do was wait and force myself to breathe. It's hard to breathe when every breath feels like a nest of hornets coated in napalm. After an eternity, she came back.

"Delivered as promised. Now, how about we get rid of some of that pain for awhile? You alright with that?"

"Yes, Ma'am. Hell yes."


	26. Chapter 26

Ch. 26 - Ceilings and Rivets

"Good news, Curtis. Looks like you'll get to leave here day after tomorrow. A place on the next flight out to Tokyo just opened up. Rest up there, and I bet Tokyo General will fly you back home within a month. Just as soon as that lung's a bit stronger."

"Really, Doc? Looks like I'll be gettin' home just about on time then. My year's almost up anyway."

"Well, I think this war's over for you regardless, Private. Between that shoulder, ribs, and lung, I think you can consider your duty to your country fully discharged. You're going to have some nice souvenirs to take with you too in the way of scars. The ladies will love it. You couldn't pay them to stay away, you'll see."

I just chuckled at him. "Right, Doc. I'm sure I'll get a real good game of 'find the scars' going with whatever Alice or Rose crosses my path. I'll have to hire a bodyguard just to beat back the crowds."

"You'll do just fine, Son. I'll probably be back in to do one more check on you before you go. Just take it easy."

He turned to go, but I managed to catch him.

"Hey, Doc! That guy I asked you about the other day, did you manage to find him?"

Wolk gave me a look I can only describe as uncertain, and a little grim.

"I asked Nellie, Nurse Carter, to check up on that for you; she's good with people. I'll send her over next time I see her. But listen, Curtis, I'm going to be direct with you; you seem like a guy that likes the truth. People can be hard to track down at the best of times over here; she might not have found out anything. Also, with the condition you came to us in, there's no telling what shape he landed up in. Nells may have found an answer, but you may not want to hear it."

"I hear you, Doc, but I still need to know. Just send her over when she has a minute; would you?"

He just nodded and left the room.

Knowing Dixon, he came out of that encounter with no more than that twisted ankle, and he was back in The Pit this very minute drinking some swindled hooch and needling James to insanity. The bastard was probably raiding all my stuff too and burning through all my cigarettes unless the clerk had already boxed it up and sent it to Tokyo. I really hoped that was the case anyway. I don't think I'd even really mind too much if all my weeds were gone. I need to quit smoking anyway.

With a sigh, I carefully lowered myself back down to stare at the ceiling. I did that a lot when I wasn't sleeping off the painkillers they'd give me. Strange building; quonsets I think is what they called them. It was all curved. Made me feel like I was living in an airplane hanger. Not much to do around here; most of my roommates weren't exactly in any condition to go hunting any action. Me either to think of it. Not sure I could even play a round of five card stud with my arm all slung up like this. So that left the room. The ceiling and walls, there ain't no difference, have twelve joins in them and each of those joins has 156 rivets holdin' 'em together. Not quite sure how many that makes in the building. I ain't never been good at math, and I haven't been bored or conscious quite long enough to count 'em all. Though, to be honest, if I'm here much longer, I just might be tempted.

"Private Curtis? Are you awake?"

I hadn't even realized I'd closed my eyes. Ain't much difference between the back of my eyelids and the blank ceiling. They're both pretty boring, and I could see that ceiling even with my eyes closed now.

"Aw shoot, Nurse Carter, ain't I told you to call me Soda?" I said with a grin.

I cracked my eyes open in time to see her smile back at me, "I seem to recall that conversation, Private, but rules are rules. I'm not going to have a reprimand filed in my record over the likes of you. Now, how are you feeling?"

I eased myself back up into more of a sitting position, "I'm alright, Nurse, just bored out of my mind. I ain't too good at just sitting. Never have been."

"We have a library of sorts. I could get you some books if you want. It might help to pass the time."

"I ain't much of a reader either. Don't worry about it though, Doc says I get to head to Tokyo in a couple days. I supposed I can last till then."

"Alright then, just let me or one of the other nurses know if there's anything else we can help with." She turned to leave, but I stopped her.

"Nurse, the Doc said you were checking up on that buddy of mine that was with me on that last mission, Michael Dixon. Did you find anything?"

She sighed just a little bit; barely noticeable unless you were looking for it, and then came back around to the side of the bed and sat on the edge.

"That's what I thought you were going to ask me. I was hoping to put it off until I had better news."

"Is he alright? Where is he?"

"Well, Soda, I don't really know. I was able to get in contact with your CO, but he didn't know much. All we know was that he was alive and was evaced from the tunnel site by helo. I don't know how much you've been told, but the powers that be decided to use that stunt of yours as the start to a new offensive. It threw the VC off their game a bit, so the generals are taking full advantage. Things are busy and people are getting scrambled all over the place right now. I'm sure if you check back with your CO in a few weeks when you're in Tokyo, he'll know something."

"Thanks for trying, Nurse; I knew it was a long shot. At least I know he didn't die down there in that hell hole, pardon my language, Ma'am.

"My ears aren't quite that sensitive, Curtis, but thank you for the consideration anyway. I don't mind making a few phone calls. If I was in your position, I'd want to know what happened too. Get some rest now, and I'll let you know if I hear anything else."

"Yes, Ma'am. Oh, and Nurse, you called me Soda," I said with the flashiest grin I could muster.

She stopped in her tracks and laughed, "I suppose I did, Private. You're a charmer, that's for sure. All the fathers in your neighborhood with daughters must have had a baseball bat or shotgun waiting by the door just for you. You should be fair and write them to let them know you're coming back so they should have them all cleaned, shined, and ready."

"Eh, I'm more of a window man, Nurse."

"I'll bet. Now rest; you're not home just yet. You've still got a lot of healing left to do."

"Aye Aye, Captain," I replied with a mock salute. That movement alone was enough to leave me wincing. I wasn't going to be rumbling anytime soon, that's for sure. For now, back to the rivets. One...Two...Three...Four...


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27 - Homecoming

"Ice it, will you, Pony? You're squirming around like a puppy, and it's making me edgy. And for Pete's sake, Matthews, we're in public! If airport security comes and arrests you for lewd behavior, I ain't bailin' you out. Just when I think y'all have grown up and I can take you out…"

"Aww, it ain't nothing, Darry, she didn't mind."

"She was laughing at you, Blockhead, and not in the good way. Besides, she may not have minded, but I bet Kathy would."

"Ah, but I had her attention; didn't I? And Kathy and I are on a break anyway."  
"Geez, Two-Bit, haven't you strung that poor girl on long enough? It's been years! Just buy her a damn ring already and get on with it." I didn't normally ride him about Kathy or any of the other girls he went with, but it made for a good distraction right now, so I took it.

"Me a family man? Naw, not yet. I'd probably just end up leavin' like my old man. Figure I'll save myself the paperwork and the alimony."

"Can you even spell alimony? Damnit, Pony! How many cups of coffee did you have this morning? You're driving me outta my mind! Either calm down or take a walk!"

"Don't gotta spell it to have to pay it. And lay off the kid; he's just excited. He's all jittery and you're gettin' snippy. Seems normal enough to me. When's Soda's flight due in anyway?"

"Shoulda landed a half hour ago."

This whole day had been torture, but the last hour had been some special kind of torture created by Lucifer himself. Waiting has to be one of the most painful things on this planet. We'd gotten a telegram two days ago with Soda's travel confirmation and I don't think Pony or I'd slept since.

 _Pan American Airlines flight 248 out of Los Angeles arriving at Gate A5. Pan American Airlines flight 248 out of Los Angeles arriving at Gate A5._

"Thank God! It's about time!" I breathed and let out some of the breath I'd been holding in for the last year. Not all, but some. "Come on, Ponyboy, let's go find our brother. And if you tap those fingers one more time, I'll make you go wait in the car." I said the last part with a smile, and it was only halfway a lie. I'd never make him miss this, don't think I could even if I tried anyway, but his finger and toe tapping were enough to make me consider it. I grabbed Hannah's hand and she gave it a little squeeze as we started walking toward the gate.

Passengers finally started coming off, and I personally wanted to shove each and every one of them out of the way. It must have showed at least a little because Pony's hand found my shoulder.

"Easy, man, he'll come. After the year of Purgatory we've just been through, another minute or two of waiting is nothing. But if you get yourself hauled in for assault, the wait's gonna be a whole lot longer."

I gave my little brother a side glance. He was looking straight forward, but he had a jackal grin worthy of Matthews plastered all over his face. My eyes went back to the gate and after a few more minutes, a drab green garrison cap point peeked out from the shoulder of a middle aged businessman. Another second, and a face so familiar it might as well have been my own appeared just below the cap. His eyes were searching expectantly, but in just a moment, they found us and his face cracked wide open. Soda had always been a smiler, but this was something else entirely. I felt Hannah's hand leave mine, and that was all the permission I needed. I started walking, almost running, toward him and I'm pretty sure my face was mirroring his. I could feel Pony at my shoulder matching every step. We didn't even stop when we reached each other, we just went straight into a full, but careful embrace and I let the rest of the breath I'd been holding onto go. We were complete again. We didn't say anything for a long time, but finally we broke it up and just stepped back and looked at each other. There was so much to say, but details and stories would come later. I felt Hannah and Two-Bit walk up behind us, so I lightened the mood just a little bit so they would feel a little more welcome.

"Damn, Pepsi-cola, I sure hope the other guy looks worse than you otherwise I didn't do my duty as a big brother."

He laughed, "Yeah, Dar, he looks worse." To most people his reply would sound lighthearted and ordinary, but not to me. The laughter in his voice didn't quite reach his eyes. The laughter always used to reach his eyes. "And who is this? This must be my new sister. Come here, Lady!" Soda, with all his charm, grabbed Hannah by the hand, spun her around, and then kissed her smack on the mouth. Any other guy would be in the ground for that, but not my brother. He just looked at me and gave me a big, disarming puppy grin and shrugged.

"Hey man, I didn't get to kiss the bride at your wedding, so I had to make up for it. In all seriousness though, Hannah, it's good to finally meet you. You and I have a lot to talk about when these guys ain't around." Then he gave her a very brotherly peck on the cheek and turned his attention to Two-Bit who'd been hanging in the background.

"Two-Bit, get your ass up here and say 'Hi'."

"Aye, Aye, Captain!" and he mock saluted like he belonged in Hogan's Heroes as he came up and gave Soda a handshake and a back slap.

"That's the Navy, Dumbass, but it's good to see you anyway. You know what, it shoulda been you that got drafted. You'd have been in a week or two, they'd have seen how crazy you are, and they'd have given you a Section 8 and sent ya back. Pity. Where's Steve?"

"Had to work today. I think the boss is still sore from you leavin' the shop short-handed."

Soda scoffed, "Like I had a choice."

"Either way, he's bein' a grease monkey today. He'll be at your house later after he gets off."

"We havin' a party? Don't know how much I'll be able to do, but I'll try. They've still got me on some pretty interestin' painkillers."

I still couldn't pinpoint it, but there was still something off as I watched Sodapop. Maybe he was just tired from flying, or maybe I was just imagining it. Or maybe he'd just changed a bit and grown up some and I was reading too much into it. I caught Pony's attention, and our silent conversation confirmed my fears. It wasn't just in my own mind.

* * *

Later that night, I could tell Soda was wearing out, so I sent everyone home and sent him to bed. He didn't even argue. I wasn't sure if he was just that beat, or he'd just gotten that used to taking orders. Maybe it was both. A minute after he went into the bedroom, I hear him call out, "Hey, Darry! Come in here a minute, will ya?"

I went down the hallway and looked in his doorway, "Come in and close the door."

"What's up, Little Buddy?"

He grinned at the nickname and then sighed. "I can't get my shirt off by myself. The nurses at the hospital have been helping me."

"I gotcha, Little Brother, but I think you've traded down. I'd much rather a woman help me undress than my brother."

He full on laughed for a second and then doubled over.

"You're right about that, Darry, but don't make me laugh so much. Still hurts like hell."

"Sorry," I apologized as I helped unbutton the uniform and ease it around his shoulder. He'd taken the sling off so we could get the shirt off, but he still wasn't really supposed to be moving it. After a few minutes with a lot of wincing and under-the-breath curses, we succeeded. I just stared.

"Shit, Soda!" I breathed through my teeth. I'd seen a lot of beat up and bloody guys in my time, but I wasn't used to seeing my little brother so badly beaten. I'd taught him to fight better than that. That shoulder...

"I know… but at least I came out of it. I almost didn't."

He didn't seem to want to elaborate, so I didn't push it. Maybe later, but not yet.

"Hey, at least they left my face," he joked. Once again though, his eyes didn't seem to realize he was joking.

We sat there on his bed in an awkward silence until finally he was the one to quietly break the standoff.

"What happened to the baby, Darry? I ain't blind."

The blade returned to my gut. We'd gotten on with life, but sometimes something would happen to reopen the wound. I tried to speak, but I just couldn't.

"Why didn't you tell me? That's something family should know." Looking at Soda, I could see almost little ghosts of tears forming in his eyes. They didn't take the emotions out of him, at least that's something.

"It happened just before you got hurt. I hadn't had the chance to write you yet before the telegram came. Well, I had the chance I guess, but I didn't have the words. Then we found out about you, and it just didn't seem right to put that on you too."

He didn't reply right away, and there were a few more moments of silence.

"How are you and Hannah?"

"It's hard to miss something you never really had, but it still doesn't stop it from hurting. We're dealing alright though; one day at a time. How about you? Now I'm not gonna push you for every detail of the last year, but I can handle whatever you decide to tell me."

He looked thoughtful for a second and then gave me another fake smile, "I'm fine, Darry, honest. Don't worry. Listen, I just took some more painkillers and they're kicking in. I'll see you tomorrow, alright? I'm expecting a full breakfast of chocolate cake. Let me make the coffee though. Once you get a taste of Army coffee, everything else just tastes like dishwater."

I left him alone, but his command of 'Don't worry" fell on deaf ears.

* * *

I don't know why, but I thought that now I was back in my own home and my own bed I'd be able to sleep. I'm just a fool I guess. Dream faces follow you anywhere. I eventually gave up and flipped on the lamp on the nightstand and just sat there taking in the familiarity of the room. Darry never did fix the hole I'd punched in the wall the day I got my draft notice. Guess that's my job when my body's up to it. Being home was great and everything I wanted, but it wasn't as easy as I'd thought it would be. My body was back in Tulsa, but my head and part of my heart were still in Vietnam. Still with my platoon. I couldn't share that with my brothers either because those pieces I left back there are pieces of me I never want them to know exist.


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28 - Sunrise Over Tulsa

I was set to see yet another sunrise. This would be the first back on U.S. soil, but I was sure it wouldn't be the last. Abrams kept me company most of last night. He sat there by the bed and then followed me right outside to the patio when I got tired of laying there not sleeping. I sat out on the cool concrete with him beside me. I couldn't see it, but I knew the bullet hole in his back was still there. Daniel was my most frequent visitor, but there were always others. The girl with the little kid was the worst. Abrams and I sat there in the faint glow of the streetlight down on the corner. He never talked; none of 'em did. But I'd started talking to them sometimes. Asking questions they couldn't answer. I'm not sure I'd want to hear them even if they could.

Just as the sky was pinking up, I heard a squeal and a soft slam behind me.

"Soda? What are you doing out here? You okay?"

"Yeah, Pony, I'm okay," I replied with a smile, "What are you doing out here at this time? The Ponyboy Curtis I remember could sleep till afternoon through an artillery blast and a marching band. What time is it anyway?"

"About 5:30. I wish I could sleep in. I've got an 8:00 class: Intro to Psychology. Thought I'd get up early and make you some breakfast before I left."

I just nodded and we sat there in peaceful silence for a few more minutes watching the sky get brighter.

"Soda?"

"Mmmhmm…"

"You been out here all night?"

"You tryin' to shrink me, Mr. College Psychologist?"

"Naw, just askin'"

"Most of it."

The sun just began peeking over the horizon at the end of the street.

"How about that breakfast, Pony? I ain't had a decent pancake in over a year. Think you're up to it?"

He beamed at me and pushed himself up to standing.

"Sure thing, Soda!"

I followed him and we ambled back through the old screen door and back into the kitchen. The kid was too easy to fool. A few "I'm fines" and a relaxed grin and I'd put his world right again. I was back home and nothing had changed for him. Good, that's how it should be. I don't think Darry would be so easy. He's grown up seeing a lot more of my shit than Pony. Pony has always been too quick to believe the best in me. I once had him convinced for an entire month that they'd changed the name of Tulsa to Monkeyballs. He only asked me if I was sure once, and the kid took it as the gospel truth. He was about five at the time. When Darry found out, he headlocked me and made me eat dirt until I promised to fix it. I came clean later that day and Pony stopped and thought for a few seconds and then responded with, "That's okay, Soda," and then went back to whatever a five year old boy does with his time. I guess not much had changed, because he seemed to swallow my latest diversion as easily as that first lie.

As Pony set to making the pancakes, I got the coffee going. Just as it started to perk, a very sleepy, disheveled Darry stumbled in.

"What in blazes are you doin' in here, Pony; constructin' the next Empire State Building? Sounds like a damned construction site in here with you banging around."

"Sorry, Darry. Didn't realize I was bein' so loud. Did I wake Hannah up too?"

Darry wiped his face in his hands and let out a hiss as he stretched, "Eh, don't worry too much; I had to be up in a bit anyway. Got an early job. And don't worry, Hannah's still sleeping. Good thing too; you know what she's like when you get her up too early.

Pony laughed, "Watch out for Hurricane Hannah!"

My brothers had their private little joke, and I just stood there out in the cold leaning against the counter. This was new. I'd always had the inside jokes with both of 'em, but I don't really remember any just between them two. It felt kind of strange, but I'm not sure that it was a bad thing.

Darry broke into my thoughts.

"G.I. Joe, how's the coffee coming? Ready yet?" His icy blues were studying me. I swear his bullshit detector was gettin' to be just as good as Momma's. Never could get anything by that woman. I glanced over at the pot for an excuse to look away and shrugged it off.

"Naw, not yet. Almost." I dared to glance back at him to find that he'd relaxed the stare. He even cracked a small smile as he grabbed a mug out of the cabinet. Maybe it was just all the lack of sleep.

"The least you can do now that you're freeloadin' off me is have the coffee ready on time."

"Yes, Sir!" I wise-cracked back at him in a mock of an army response, "Do you want cream and sugar with that too, Sir?"

My brothers started laughing, and then Darry whipped the dishtowel off Pony's shoulder lightning quick and stung me on the leg before I had much of a chance to react.

"No, Private," he mocked me back, "I take mine black. Only way a real man drinks coffee."

"We'll see," I laughed back as I grabbed the percolator off the stove. He had no idea what was in store for him. He'd be goin' to that fridge for the milk in a few minutes. I poured each of us a cup and watched him over the top of mine as he took the first sip. Darry choked, but managed to keep it from spewin' back out of his mouth. I watched him swallow and then he coughed a few times tryin' to clear it.

"Dangnabit, Soda, what in the hell are you tryin' to do to me!" he spit out with his eyes looking a bit teary.

"That's Army coffee, Brother! Can't hack it?"

"Maybe with a half cup of sugar and a good douse of milk. I'd swear you emptied out the oil pan on my truck into that pot."

"Don't real men drink their coffee black? And nope, it's pure coffee; Pony can back me up on that. Can't ya, Pone?"

"I'm outta this! Sort it out yourselves," he chimed in from the stove holding his spatula and spare hand up in the air.

Darry went over to the sink and dumped his mug out, "Not that. That shit ain't coffee."

I just stood there leaning against the counter sipping on my mug smiling at him. "Got any of those pancakes ready yet, Pony?"

"Yeah, come grab some," he answered while shoving the plate at me.

Darry and I moved to the table and started chowing down.

"What are you up to today, Soda? Any plans?"

"Bumming mostly," I answered through bites of food. "Probably head over to the DX. Can't work yet, but I thought I'd pay Steve a visit."

"And try to catch a few girls while you're there?" Pony ribbed as he joined us, "Word's spread you're back. There's bound to be a flock of chicks descend on the DX hopin' for a chance with the war hero."

"Now don't go inflatin' his head, Pony," Darry said as he cuffed him. Then he turned to me and added with a wicked smile, "He's probably right though. I'm sure there'll be more than one there willin' to provide a warm welcome back."

"If there's any decent show up, I might just take them up on the offer."

Pony just smiled and Darry shook his head.

"Just take it easy, will you? No auto work; you're still mending, alright? Pony, I'm leaving in five. If you can be ready, I'll drop you off at the bus stop."

After a few idle threats and insults, Darry and Pony loaded up into Darry's truck and left. I was pretty much alone. I didn't know what to do with myself. I wandered around a bit, stared out the window… The sun was fully up now and there were some cars and people starting to move around. I was definitely going to have to find something to do. Anything. Sighing, I went back to my room and tried to put on a clean shirt. I've done easier things, but I got it done eventually with my shoulder complaining the whole time. I came back out to meet Hannah in the hallway.

"Morning!" she greeted me with a smile, "How'd you sleep?"

I just chuckled as we walked down the hall, "I tried."

"I woke up about three and saw you out back when I went to get a drink. Jet lag?"

"Some," I agreed.

"Well aren't you a man full of words this morning," she replied sarcastically while eyeing me.

I felt a bit guilty. This was the first chance we'd had to actually talk and I wasn't giving her much to work with.

"Sorry. Sleeping just doesn't always come easy anymore."

"I get that. Some nights don't go so well for me either. Sounds like there's more of a story there for you. Care to share?" she offered as she flipped a couple pancakes back in the pan to warm them up.

I thought about it.

"Maybe part of it some day," I conceded.

She nodded, "Okay. Where are you headed? You look like you're on your way out."

"Think I'm gonna go for a walk and then head over to the DX when it opens. What's on your schedule for the day?"

"I've got a few things to do around town and then have to head into work for ten."

"Anything I can help with? I can always go visit the station later."

"No, but thanks" she answered as she plated up, "I've got it handled. Go explore your city again."

"You sure?"

"Soda, I've been holding my own around here for months while you were gone. I can last a few more days while you settle in. Don't worry, I'll get you back later. There are no free passes around here," she ended with a smile.

"Noted. Just say the word when you need something."

"Count on it. Have fun!"

"See you later, Hannah," and I turned to leave. Just as I left the kitchen, I turned around and poked my head back in, "Oh, careful with that coffee. It's Army strong. Pretty brutal if you aren't used to it."

"Thanks for the heads up. My brother made me some when he got back a couple months back. I can handle it, but it's good to be prepared," she grinned and headed for the cabinet to grab a mug.

Shaking my head, I walked to the front door and outside.


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter 29 - Like I'd Never Left

Not much had changed really. The roof had finally caved in on the old Jorgenson place, but that was about it. I don't know what I expected, but everything was just about the same as it was a year ago. When you think about it, a year really ain't that long. As I walked around, I didn't see much evidence there was even a war going on, just the occasional poster or memorial. Vietnam seemed like another time, another place. Maybe I'd dreamed the whole thing.

After wandering around for a while, I headed down toward the DX. It still wouldn't be open yet, but I knew Steve would be there. Most mornings he'd be there tinkering with his own car before the shop opened. Hell, sometimes he'd even stay overnight and sleep in the thing if his dad was in a mood. As I got closer to the shop, I could see, or hear rather, that I was right. The door was about halfway open and I could hear Mr. Johnny Cash singin' away. Most of us didn't go in too much for country music; that was one of Steve's odd things. Country music ain't all bad though, and livin' in Oklahoma, it's pretty hard to avoid.

I snuck in silently and ducked under the garage door. Just inside, the wrench set was hangin' in the same place where it had for probably the last 20 years, so I grabbed a handful and started to creep toward the pair of legs sticking out from underneath the Olds. I got a few steps away, and just as I was getting ready to let the wrenches loose and scare the Devil out of Steve, a voice drawled from under the chassis.

"Curtis, if you even think of droppin' them wrenches, you'll wish you were back in Vietnam. Them Gooks will look like fine mannered old ladies next to me and the whippin' I'll give you."

All I could do was smile and shake my head. Sneak up on some VC, easy. Sneak up on my best friend, apparently not so much so.

"Aww, Steve, you ain't no fun."

The rest of my buddy came sliding out from under the car.

"Too bad, so sad, Sodapop. It's too early for all that racket you'd make with them wrenches. Didn't want to hear it."

Gesturing toward the radio, I retorted with, "And it ain't too early for that racket? What gives? Can't you turn on some rock 'n roll or something?"

"Hey, Wiseass, my garage, my radio. When you come back to work, then maybe we'll talk about goin' halfsies."

"Alright, alright," I conceded. "So how is the old gal anyway?"

Steve pulled himself up and started wiping his hands on a shop towel. "She's okay, just tryin' to keep her runnin' sweet."

"Tune up?" I asked.

"Yep, just that and an oil change."

That old car was Steve's pride and joy. It was a '48 Oldsmobile Convertible he'd gotten for a song. It was basically just a shell when he'd gotten it at 15 and he'd fixed it up along the way. Some parts of her were bought outright and legal with good, honest money. Others were well… others were acquired through more creative means. She was old, but Steve did good by her and she'd turned into a beauty; a real Lady.

"You do anything new with her since I've been gone?" I asked leaning against the tool bench. Steve came over to join me.

"Not much to do anymore. She's pretty much perfect. I did have to do some work on the passenger side fender. Jack Olson decided to be a bastard and key her."

"You give him a reason?" I asked though I already knew the answer.

"Maybe," Steve replied with a lazy grin while he lit up a cigarette and passed the pack to me. We just sat there blowing smoke for awhile and Steve regaled me with the story of how he'd pissed off Jack. This I could handle. That's what I like about Steve; he wasn't the type of guy to look over your shoulder. If he could fix a car, seduce a girl, or pick a fight, he was happy and he'd be more than happy to let you do your own thing if you didn't get in his way. Here in this garage with Steve, it felt like I'd never left. That is until I went to move a box of parts out of my way and decided to use my bum arm. Pretty sure the Queen of England could hear the string of curses I let fly. Hope she wasn't too offended. Steve took care of the box and looked me over.

"Damn, Soda, they really did get you good, didn't they?"

"Yep," was all I could hiss in agreement.

He just shook his head, shrugged, and got busy wiping down the car. "You really can't tell it too much. You play it off real well. I like the new phrases you've added to your collection though. They teach you those in Basic? Advanced Cussin' for the New G.I.?"

"Now that's a class I could pass with flyin' colors," I shot back, "Naw, when you stick a few dozen guys together, get them real bored, and then start shootin' at 'em, some real interesting things start coming out of their mouths. You just sorta pick 'em up."

"Obviously," he smiled with his weed still in his teeth and he threw another towel at me, "Make yourself at least a little useful, will ya?"

Just like I'd never left.

Later that day, after bummin' around the garage watching Steve work, he flipped me his wallet. I just stared at him.

"Go grab us some lunch, you lazy ass. I'm buying."

"Whatdya want?"

"Surprise me. You're the one survived on Army rations for the past year."

"Sounds good to me. I could go in for a good burger and a Coke."

There was this little diner about a half block down from the DX. Run by this sweet old couple. I'd put their burgers up against any in the Midwest. Hell, maybe even the whole country. I pushed open the door and was greeted by the sound of the familiar tinkling bell they'd hung over it to let 'em know they had customers. I'd missed that sound and didn't even know it. A quick glance at the counter and my smile got a whole lot bigger. Bonnie Dewit. Sweet, sweet Bonnie. With a body to kill and a brain to match, she was too good for me, but she had let me take her out a couple times and she was always good for a little good natured flirting. I strolled up like I owned the place and leaned on the counter in front of her.

"What's shakin', Darlin'?" and I flashed her my brightest, goofiest smile.

"Hi, Soda," she responded flatly. No smile, no friendliness, nothing.

"Whoa, Bonnie, what happened? You get stuck in the diner freezer while I was gone and ain't thawed out yet?"

"What do you want to order, Soda?"

It couldn't get much colder in here if the diner had magically been transported to Antarctica. She was all business. I checked her hand for a ring to see if she was freezing me out so she didn't make her guy mad, but it was empty.

"What's your hurry, Darlin'? It's not like there's a line behind me."

"Just order, will you, Curtis?"

"What the hell did I do, Bonnie? I ain't been back 24 hours and you're already pissed at me?"

"Exactly, you've been gone. And where have you been, Soda? You might want to wash your hands; they're looking a bit red. A bit bloody. Order or get out."

She was staring straight at me. There was no friendliness or good humor in that face, and it was completely unlike the Bonnie I remembered.

"Just two burgers, fries, and Cokes," I managed to get out. I waited down at the other end of the counter until it was ready. No sense in pokin' at an angry beast. She dumped the bags on the counter and didn't even acknowledge me. I picked 'em up and headed back to the DX.

"Hey, Steve-o! What in blazes is wrong with Bonnie? She'd have liked to murder me where I stood just for breathin'."

Steve visibly cringed when I mentioned her name.

"Sorry, I forgot she might be workin' there today. I should've warned you. Bonnie's been gettin' real political lately, and she's not on the side of the war. She's one of the ones at the anti-war rallies, printing up all kinds of articles in the paper, and doin' things like picketing the recruiting offices. It's gettin' nasty, Soda. You ain't heard?"

"Rallies? I knew some people don't like what's goin' on over there. Saw a bit of it before I left, but it wasn't that bad. Maybe I just didn't notice."

"No, it's gettin' worse the longer the war goes on. They're probably tryin' their darndest to keep it from the boys over there. It'd be best to put them dog tags somewhere safe and forget about 'em. Someone's gonna try to pick a fight with you, and you can't exactly defend yourself yet."

"Why? It's not like I chose to go there and people around here at least know that. Most guys over there were drafted."

"Don't matter," he shrugged as he took a bite of his burger.

So much for it being like I never left.


	30. Chapter 30

Chapter 30 - Tell Someone

The weeks went by, and my life got back to a sort of rhythm. My injuries were healing well for the most part. The ribs and the knife wounds were just about fixed, but the bullet wound in my shoulder… Well, I could do more than I could do a few weeks ago, but I was starting to agree with the doc about it ever getting back to "normal". Maybe I'd find a new normal. I'd started back up part-time at the DX running the pumps and register. Still wasn't much help in the garage, so Steve was still flyin' solo in there. I'd also get called in down at the stables once in awhile for busy events to help stage the riders. Neither one of those gigs was gonna do me for the long term. They were gettin' me by for now, but pretty soon I was gonna have to figure out somethin' more permanent. Only trouble is, I had no earthly idea what. The only things I was good at either I couldn't do anymore or were only useful in a war zone.

Everyone was tryin' to help me out the best they could. Pony kept bringing up gettin' me back in school. He kept leaving me information on night classes I could take to finish high school. He'd even talk about all sorts of college programs I might be interested in. Some of them didn't sound so bad, but I still wasn't sold. School had never been a place where I'd shined. Pony kept offering to help, but he was swamped with his own schooling. I couldn't do that to him.

Hannah helped in her own way. She didn't try to sit there and offer me advice; she just listened. She'd just sit there and listen to me talk about whatever fool idea ran across my brain. Last week it was bein' a forest ranger. The week before that, I was thinkin' about opening my own hotel. She'd shake her head at some of my crazier ones, but she never judged or told me no. Well, she told me no once. I brought up flight school and gettin' my pilots' license, and she reminded me of how airsick I get on a plane. Probably a good idea if I stay away from that one.

Darry was the hardest. He didn't know what to do with me. Most of what Darry knows is hard labor, and that just ain't in the cards for me anymore. He'd get me a job on his crew in a heartbeat if my body could handle it. Instead, he just avoided the topic mostly. He just watched. He was always watching me like he was waiting for something to happen. Since my first night back, he hadn't even brought up my time in Vietnam. That was okay because I didn't want to talk about it either. But, since both of those topics were off the table, we sat around talking about nothing while we ignored the two elephants in the room because neither one of us knew what to do with them. But he was always watching. Twice we'd almost come close to tackling the war elephant. Once we were walking by the park and a car backfired. My body reacted and ducked before my brain took over and told me it wasn't enemy fire. I was in Oklahoma and I was safe. The other time, I woke screaming from one of my dreams. The VC had surrounded Henderson, and it was a massacre. Apparently I was screaming "Run!" and a bunch of people's names over and over. I woke with me and my sheets drenched in sweat and tears. Darry was just standing by my bed with a pained expression on his face.

"Are you ever going to be able to tell me, Soda?" was all he asked. I just shook my head 'no'. He lingered for a few seconds and then left. I know it hurt him that I wouldn't tell him about what went on over there, but it would hurt him even more if I did. So, life went on in a holding pattern.

So far, I'd done a pretty bang up job of separating my Army life from my civilian life. They'd only clashed a couple times. I had to keep goin' up to the V.A. hospital for therapy on my shoulder. I didn't like it, but at least I didn't have to hide while I was in that building. Anyone in the building could look at one another and see exactly what we each were. The only other time the two had come in contact was when I called Abrams' parents. I couldn't make it to go see them like I wanted, but the phone call was good. I had to beg for some extra hours at the DX to cover the cost of that call, but I'm glad I did it. We shared stories, and they told me about the funeral. It was done with full military honors like it should have been. They described it as "splendid", and they kept thanking me. I just kept thinking "You'd have more to thank me for if I'd been able to save him."

The hospital visits and the phone call were on my terms mostly, but then Vietnam went and snuck up on me and knifed me in the back. I came home one afternoon from working the DX and Pony stuck his head out from his room.

"Hey, Soda, you've got some mail on the table. Looks like it came through some military channels."

If you asked me to describe how I felt at that exact moment, I'd have to tell you that I was somewhere between giddy excitement and puke-worthy nervousness. I was excited to hear news of the guys, but I also wasn't sure I wanted to hear what that news was. I picked the letter off the kitchen table and stared at it. Do I open it slowly? Do I tear it open quickly like pulling off a band-aid? I took a breath, ripped it, and began to read.

 _Dear Sodapop,_

 _I'm glad to hear you're home safe and sound with your family, Son. If it were up to me, I'd send every man here to join you. Well, not to join you particularly, but you get the picture. We've been relieved of firebase duty and moved back to Cam Lo, so we're a little more comfortable than most of the time you were with us. For the most part we're doing alright. You'll be glad to hear that James Rainier is back stateside. His tour was up, but they offered him a pretty nice gig in Washington, and he decided to accept. I guess he made an impression on some of the big brass. That's the good news._

 _Son, you're not going to like the next bit of news I have to give you, but I figure you'll want to know anyway, and I'm not gonna beat around the bush. Michael Dixon returned to duty after that mission of yours. His wounds were minor, and he was back in camp in a couple weeks. You'll know his tour was up the same time yours would have been, but he didn't go home; he reenlisted. A few weeks later, he was presumed KIA when the medical supply chopper he was escorting was shot down near the Cambodian border. You and I know it's not likely, but if by some miracle he survived the crash and the jungle, he might be a POW up at Hanoi. I wouldn't put anything past the man. Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, Curtis, but I thought I owed it to you to tell you. All the best to you and your family._

 _Col. Francis Beleaux_

The damn fool. He was safe. He did his service and could have come home, but the damn fool had to re-up. And look what it got him: dead. Well, probably dead. If he wasn't dead, he probably wished he was. The Hanoi Hilton was supposed to be comparable to the seventh level of Hell. I crushed the letter in my fist and then slammed the wad on the floor. I stormed outside and nearly took the door off its hinges.

I didn't know where I was going exactly; I just knew I needed to move. If I didn't move, I was gonna blow. After tearing around for awhile, I finally worked out enough of the anger so I could stop. I leaned against the wall of Mace's Drug Store and lit up a fresh cigarette. I'd burned through half a pack already just since I'd left the house. You damn idiot. Why'd you have to go and reenlist? You were fucking free.

To be honest, I knew why he did it. I'd be lying if I said I hadn't thought about re-uping myself. Probably still would if they'd have me back. At least I don't have to make that decision and explain it to Pony and Darry.

"Well, well, what I see here is a Curtis brother back from the jungles over in Viet-nam."

My eyes snapped over and saw Carl Lynsky walking toward me. Now Carl always was a mean son of bitch, even from the time we were little. He had a knack for digging out a person's weakness and driving them into the ground with it. No one was off limits and he really had no friends. He wasn't worth my time, and I usually left him alone. But not today. Today I welcomed him with a smile.

"Real great eyes you got there, Lynsky. Did you also happen to notice the sky is blue?" I stayed calmly leaning against the building. To an outsider, it would look like a friendly conversation, but every part of me was screaming at him to run his mouth and give me a reason.

"Very funny, Sodapop. I see your sense of humor came back in better shape than the rest of you."

"Well, then I must be hysterical Lynsky, because the rest of me is damn fine."

He was getting real close now just like the snake he was. Slithering up hoping to strike. One word, boy, and I'm gonna be the boot that crushes your fool head in. Took care of a bunch of them in that jungle and you'll be no different. Give me a reason.

"That's not what I heard, Sodapop. Heard they did you in real good over there. You know what else I heard? I heard that you guys over there took a liking to whacking off babies and little kids. Oh, and you'd kill their dads too. But not their mommas. Heard you guys liked to keep them around for a little while."

Bingo.

If it had been the first time I'd heard those things, it would have thrown me. Carl Lynsky couldn't form an original thought to save his soul, so he was just repeating what he'd heard around town, in the news, and on the posters and at the rallies. It wasn't new, but it was a reason. All the reason I needed right now.

I leaned away from the building and stood up. Calmly, I ground out my cigarette. Someone should tell Carl to stay away from bookies. He was betting that I was still too hurt to smash his face in. That he'd get in his cheap shot and run away. He'd betted wrong.

"What would you know about it, Lynsky? You've been tucked up here safe and sound tucked in next to your momma in your footie train pajamas. Shut the hell up and come talk to me when you get to be a man. You ain't even worthy to lick the asses of the guys I served with."

"Really?" he said closing the last bit of space between us, "Everyone knows the boys over there are animals. All animals killing, raping, burning. You just can't help yourselves."

Now people have always told me I turn kinda crazy when I fight. Maybe they were right. Maybe Carl was right. I did turn into an animal. I had him down on the pavement laying punch after punch straight to his face without a single human thought running through my brain. Nothing was holding me back. Then I heard someone yell, "Soda, don't!" and I felt myself being hauled off him.

Two-Bit shoved me behind him and swooped down like a bat outta hell on Carl. He was barely moving and his face looked like it'd been through a meat grinder. Nevertheless, Two-Bit hauled him to his feet, whispered something real quiet to him, and kicked him down the sidewalk. Carl stumbled off slowly, but didn't look back. A big part of me wanted to go after him. Hunt him. It felt wrong to let him go. I was trained to take out the enemy, and he was getting away. Two-Bit came toward me slowly.

"Give me the blade, Soda. Come on, Man."

I looked over at my hand, and sure enough, my knife was in it. Don't even remember taking it out. Two-Bit reached me and carefully took it from my hand and put it in his own pocket and stared me down. No anger, mostly confusion, sadness, and worry.

"You were really gonna kill him, weren't you?"

"Yes," I answered back flatly without a moment's pause. There was no thinking involved. I knew in my soul, if I still had one, that had he been a few seconds later, Carl would be dead and I'd be up on murder charges. Why? Because that's what I did. That's who I was. I also knew that any fight I got in from now on would end in blood because that's what I was trained for. So much for the days of the good natured rumble to blow off some steam. I couldn't find a line to stop at anymore. The jungle didn't have lines.

"Let's get you home, Man," was all Two-Bit said, and I didn't argue.

"What were you doin' there?" I asked as we walked.

"Pony was callin' around lookin' for you. Told us about the letter; about your friend. I'm sorry."

"Don't matter none. He's dead all the same, but pieces of shit like Carl Lynsky are still dragging their miserable carcasses around breathin'. Can you explain that?"

"No, I can't. But listen, Soda, I know…"

"You don't know shit, Keith. You've stayed here just a safe as Carl, so don't pretend you understand. And if you know what's good for you, you'll mind your own business and let me handle mine."

"Great, Sodapop, threaten me. Gonna beat my head in like you just did Carl's?"

"Maybe. Maybe that blade will reach your throat one day."

"Listen, Soda, you'd know I'd let you handle your own business, but you ain't handling it. At least not really. Your idea of handling things seems to be by becoming a murderer."

I had already turned my back on him by this point and walked away, but at that, I turned around.

"What do you mean by 'becoming a murderer', Keith? I already am one."

I turned to walk away again, and just as I was about to turn the corner, Two-Bit called after me, "I aint' gonna tell your brothers, Soda, but you should. For God's sake, tell someone."


	31. Chapter 31

Chapter 31 - To Trust a Killer

I meant those last words I said to Two-Bit. I was a murderer. Over in 'Nam, it didn't seem strange because we all were. Now that I was back home, I was beginning to realize just how messed up that really was. Maybe Bonnie was onto something. My hands were looking red, especially now they were smeared with Carl's blood.

Two-Bit had yelled after me to tell someone, but who was I gonna tell even if I wanted to? Go to the police and confess all of my war-time transgressions? They'd laugh me out of the damn building. A priest? I'd be lucky if I didn't burn up the moment I set foot inside the church building. Besides, I ain't Catholic. The church Momma used to take us to didn't go in too much for the whole confession thing. Anyone I could tell who might understand was likely stuck in the same boat with me and none of us seemed to have a paddle to move our sorry asses out of this sea of guilt. Now look at me waxin' all poetic. Why couldn't this side of me have shown up while I was in school?

I'd burned through the rest of the pack and was on my last cigarette by the time I got back to the house. I just stood on the street and stared at it. I'm lucky I didn't get hit by a damn bus or something. This house used to be a place I wanted to come back to. Now I felt uncomfortable just looking at it. I could tell exactly how the rest of the evening would go. Dinner would be ready soon. We'd all sit down and eat and talk about whatever. Afterward, Pony would go off to his room to write some paper or something. Darry, Hannah, and I would sit around in the living room or kitchen after we'd cleaned up not doing much of anything while a re-run of Bonanza played in the background. Then, we'd all go to bed and I'd pretend to sleep. Tomorrow, we'd all get up and do the exact same thing all over again. Looking at my house, I could hardly make myself go in.

The evening went on just like clockwork. It was like a big play. Each of us following our scripted parts. As long as we stayed with the script, everything stayed calm and everyone stayed safe. Two-Bit was true to his word. He hadn't told them anything which was good. It gave me time.

Later on, just as always, Darry and Hannah went off to bed and Pony was either already asleep or so engrossed in his work that anything outside his door didn't matter. I went to my own room, grabbed an old backpack and started shoving stuff in. Nothing fancy, just a few pairs of jeans, some T-shirts… just the basics. Nothing green or khaki. Nothing Army related at all. I couldn't. I couldn't stay here anymore, that's for sure, but I couldn't go back either. Wherever the fuck I was going, it had to be somewhere where my brothers couldn't find me and the Army didn't exist. Maybe one day I'd be able to come back, but it was gonna be on my terms. My family didn't need to be around while I figured out all my shit. If I ever did. It was too dangerous for them to be around me. I didn't feel the least bit sorry about beating the shit out of Carl, but it gave me the cold realization that if I could damn near kill him in what should have just been a routine beat down, what was gonna stop me from doing the same to Darry or Pony if we ever got mad and went at it? What if someone wasn't there to stop me and I couldn't stop myself? I grabbed an old notebook that was left in the backpack from my high school days and ripped out a page and started scribbling.

 _I'm sorry. I'm sorry for not saying goodbye face to face, but it's better this way. Don't bother coming after me either. I've got too much of a head start on you, and this is how it has to be right now. Besides, you two never could beat me at hide and seek anyhow. Keep the tags safe for me. I'll be back some day when I can look at them. When I can look at you._

I left the letter unsigned; it didn't really need it. After it was carefully folded, I put it on top of my dresser with my dog tags on top. My service number would stay here stamped on that piece of metal that held a year of my life. I picked up the backpack and headed out of the room. With any amount of luck, I'd be able to pick up a ride and be a long way away before they even realized I was gone.

I turned the corner into the kitchen and realized I'd probably used up any bit of luck I was owed back in that rat tunnel. Pony was there at the icebox taking a swig out of the milk carton, so I had to change gears real fast. I put on a relaxed smile as if to say me walking out of the house past midnight with a backpack was the most natural thing in the world.

"You know we all drink outta that, right? The cups are like three feet from your head. Would it kill you to use one?"

He just shrugged me off.

"Chill, Soda, we all do it. I've caught you at least half a dozen times," he said as he put the carton back. Then he turned to face me. His eyes focused on the backpack first, and then the Converse on my feet. "Where are you going?" he demanded as his eyes locked on mine.

"Just over to Steve's. His dad's outta town, so we're gonna pop in a movie and throw back some beers and popcorn. Got tomorrow off, so we're gonna make up for some lost time."

That lie came tripping off my tongue even smoother than I expected. Movies and beer with Steve actually didn't sound like such a bad place to be. Almost made me wish it was the truth. Now just to wait and see if Pony buys it. He studied me for a minute. It reminded me too much of Darry. I forced myself to stay relaxed.

"No, you're not," he accused, calling my bluff. "What's going on, Soda?"

Shit.

"Nothin', Pony. I'm fine. I'm just headin' over to Steve's like I've done a hundred times. Why are you gettin' so worked up?"

"Bullshit. I bet if I look in that backpack, I'd find at least three sets of clothes and a wad of cash. You're runnin'," he stated matter-of-factly with arms crossed across his chest.

"Glory, Pony, you've got some imagination," I replied lightly trying one last attempt to diffuse his suspicions. "Been watchin' too many of those movies of yours. They're makin' you paranoid."

He had squared his shoulders now and was starin' me down and I realized that I was not gettin' out of this one smoothly.

"Cut the crap, Soda," he said with a low, steady voice, "You can only lie to me when I want you to, and right now I want the truth."

"What the hell do you mean by that?"

"Soda, I caught onto your shit a long time ago. I only believe you when it's something I want to believe. I wanted to believe you were fine, but you're not. If you were, you wouldn't be runnin'"

"I am fine," I answered in a final weak attempt to pacify him. It didn't work. By this point, I didn't really expect it to.

"Really?" he challenged, "You're fine and you're not runnin'? Alright, then let me see the backpack."

I had no answer. Pony shook his head. "Right, that's what I thought," he responded bitterly. He was in complete control of the confrontation now. "You know what, Soda? I really wanted you to be fine. If I could wish it into existence, you'd be dancin' around a field of daisies with a whole harem of pretty girls and no scars, no wounds. You know why I wanted to believe you were fine?" He paused for a beat. "Because I can't stand it when you're not."

There were faint tears in his eyes and every muscle in his body was tensed. I wasn't sure if that's because he was trying to keep from crying in front of me, or if he was prepared to fight me to keep me from leaving.

"Pony…"

"No, Soda," he stopped me with his voice raising, "From the time I was a kid, even if the world was going to Hell around you, you'd smile, make some lighthearted wisecrack about something, and carry on. That's how I knew things were gonna be alright."

"That's not fair, Pony. It ain't fair to put all that on me. You can't expect me to fix everything and make your world perfect."

"Who gives a rat's ass if it's fair!" he yelled, "It's the way it is. It's the way our world stays steady. Now, you've seen and done all sorts of things I wish you didn't have to, and I'm sorry for that. I also know it changed you. You've been trying to hide it, but I'm your brother, Soda. I've known you my whole life. I'd have to be blind, deaf, and locked away in an isolation chamber to not notice that you've been hiding since the day you got off that plane. You've changed, and I can accept that if you let me. What I can't accept is you leavin'!"

"It's better this way," I tried to explain, but he cut me off.

"No, it's not! Leavin' ain't better! My ship ain't been steady for years, Soda. Not since Mom and Dad, and definitely not since Johnny and Dally. But, I've managed to keep it floating through all of that because of you, you and Darry. I swear, if I lose one more fucking person, the whole thing's going under. I ain't comin' back from that, Soda. Whatever help you need, we'll find it, but you can't leave!"

I wanted more than anything to go wrap him in a tight hug and tell him that everything was gonna be fine and that I wasn't leaving, but I couldn't. For his own good, I couldn't be his rock anymore because I just might crush him. It was one of the hardest things I've ever done, but I focused on his anger. I don't do well with being told I can't do something, so that's where I put my attention.

"I can't, Pony? Do you realize what's been living in the room right next to yours?" He could hate me from here to eternity, and he probably would when I was through, but at least I could leave and he'd be safe. "You've been harboring a murderer, Pony. When you're lying in your bed at night, three feet from you on the other side of the wall is a man who's killed dozens. When you're dreaming about showing up to class in your underwear, I'm lying awake talking to all of the men I've killed or lost. Of course, I don't know most of their names, but I talk to them anyway. I could tell you exactly where the shot went that took their lives or what type of mine or grenade ripped off half their body. No, I didn't kill little kids or rape pretty girls like you hear from all of the anti-war crazies, but I did kill. Those men I killed had brothers just like you, Pony. They had wives and little kids of their own, and I killed them all the same."

"Stop it, Soda," his arms were crossed back in front of him and he wasn't glaring at me any longer.

"Why, Pony?" I pressed with a sneer, a sick, twisted version of my natural smile, "Can't stand to hear any more?"

"No, Soda, it was war and we get that. You've gotta let it go. You did what you had to do. I ain't gonna think any less of you for that."

"You sure about that? Do you know what I did today? I almost killed a man. Well, if you can call Carl Lynsky a man."

"Accidents happen, Soda. Carl's a piece of shit anyway and I'm sure he asked for whatever you gave him."

How in Hell was he still makin' excuses for me? Could he really be in that deep of denial? How could he still want me around? My anger started to fracture.

"You don't get it, Pony! It wasn't an accident! I wanted it! I wanted Carl dead, and I was seconds away from killing him outside the drug store right on the damn sidewalk in plain view of anyone who happened to be around! I didn't stop myself either; Two-Bit had to stop me because I couldn't. If I can do that, what's to stop me from planting a kitchen knife in your gut the next time you piss me off and we go at it?"

"Carl Lynsky ain't me or Darry. You ain't that far gone, Soda. War might have made you more dangerous, but it didn't erase who you are. We trust you. I trust you. You gotta trust yourself."

Every bit of anger I'd channeled shattered at that.

"But I don't, Pony."

"We'll help. Give me the backpack," he said softly and he held out his hand. I gave it up without a word of protest. He took it and started walking away.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Unpacking. Come on."

I laid on my bed as Pony put everything in the backpack away. Neither one of us talked while he was doin' it, we were just both there. He noticed the letter on the dresser, and he just picked it up, ripped it into little pieces, and threw it away. He never even read it. After he finished, he flipped off the lights and came over to the bed.

"Scoot over," he commanded.

"What're you doin'?" I asked confused.

"I ain't takin' any chance of you flipping the hell back out and climbing out that window. I'm staying. Besides, you kept my nightmares away for years, maybe I can return the favor."

He laid down beside me, and it didn't matter that I was still fully dressed Converse and all, with Pony's back pressed against mine, I slept the best I had in nearly a year.


	32. Chapter 32

Chapter 32 - Battle Scars and Patches

The next morning, I woke up alone. Pony must have gotten up and left which surprised me. I ain't usually that heavy of a sleeper. Guess I was makin' up for lost time. I stripped out of the slept in clothes and shoes and changed into a fresh set of jeans and just stood in the middle of my bedroom letting the cool air from the open window wash over me. Cool morning air like that always reminds me of the camping trips we'd take with Dad when we were younger. It would be nice to be out in nature again without worrying about bullets, traps, or mines.

I padded my bare feet back across the room, and as I got to the door, I glanced over at the dresser top. My tags were gone. Pony must have taken them. I didn't know whether to beat the daylights out of that boy for last night, or smother him with unending gratitude and bear hugs. Is it possible to do both? I guess we'll just have to wait to see how this all plays out. I hope he doesn't regret it.

I walked toward the kitchen thankful for an empty house, but when I got there, I found out I was wrong. Darry was sitting at the table with the newspaper in front of him, a cup of coffee in one hand, and a bucket and his toolbox next to him. He looked up from the newspaper just long enough to say, "Coffee's on the stove; grab yourself a cup. Some scrambled eggs and toast over there too if you want 'em." I had to do a doubletake. One, Darry shouldn't be home now. Two, he was doing a damn good job of being the spittin' image of Pop, even down to the undershirt he was wearing. Hell, I think the coffee mug he was using was even Dad's.

"Alright," I replied cautiously as I walked over to the cabinets. After I got my breakfast, I sat down at the table and asked the question that had been burnin' my brain for the last few minutes.

"Ain't you supposed to be at work, Darry? You ain't sick, are you? Sure don't look it."

And he didn't. Darry was as calm and relaxed as I'd ever seen him.

"Took the day off," he replied casually still readin' his paper. That simple statement turned the faint warning I'd been feeling into a full blown 'Danger, Will Robinson' feeling. Darry did not just 'take the day off'.

"Were's Pony?"

"School."

"Hannah?"

"Over at her Ma's. How's the coffee?"

"Like dirty dishwater," I replied, my frustration with his coolness and lack of answers building.

He just chuckled and kept reading that damn Sports page.

"Cut the crap, Darry. What's goin' on? Since when do you just 'take the day off'?"

"Finish your breakfast, Soda."

"Like Hell!" I said pushing myself back from the table.

"Stop actin' like a two year old and eat that toast."

"Darry, I swear… If I have to, I'll come over there and…" I didn't really have any threat to finish that thought with. I wanted to say 'beat you' or something like that, but I just couldn't.

"Fine then," he responded while finally putting the paper down. "You done? Grab the bucket."

"Can you just talk plain?" I answered in a huff while I walked my dishes over to the sink.

"You want plain? Alright. You and I are goin' to fix us a wall," he replied lightly as he grabbed the toolbox and walked out of the room. I picked up the bucket and followed him down the hall.

"What in blazes are you doin', Darry? You stayed home to fix a hole in the wall?" I had no idea what was going through my brother's mind. He appeared to have lost it, but knowing Darry, there was some rhyme or reason to this infuriating game he was playing.

"It's about time; don't you think?" he threw over his shoulder to me as we walked into my bedroom. "Soda," he said as he set the toolbox down near the hole, "Maybe this will help you to move on from all of the shit you've been going through. I don't know for sure, but it's the only idea I've got. I've been wracking my brain for weeks trying to figure out a way, and this is it. And taking a day off work is worth it if there's even the slightest chance of a payoff. Getting you straightened out is worth more than a few bucks."

Then it hit me full on. I don't know why it took so long. Maybe I still wasn't fully awake or something. "You heard me and Pony last night, didn't you?" Thinking back, it would have been nearly impossible for him not to. Our house ain't that big, and it definitely ain't soundproof.

"Yeah, Soda, I did," he admitted, "Pretty sure the neighbors did too. You got Pony real worked up. I don't think he's ever even screamed at me like that. Be sure to get that plaster mixed up real good, otherwise it won't stick and it won't dry right."

"Why didn't you come in?" I asked as I stirred the plaster in the bucket with the stick he'd handed me.

Darry chuckled as he inspected the hole, "Hannah asked me the same thing about twenty times last night. She was damn near pushing me into that kitchen. It seemed like Pony was handling things alright. Besides, I figured if I went in and we double teamed you, you'd have felt like a trapped animal between the two of us and things would have gotten real nasty, real quick. Am I right? A little bit more. It still ain't smooth."

I thought about it and replayed parts of last night in my mind, "Yeah," I finally admitted, "It could have gotten real bad." If Darry had done that, I would have fought. In the state I was in, it could have easily brought my worst nightmare to life.

We worked in silence for the next few minutes, but the unknown finally gnawed at me long enough, and I couldn't hold it in any longer.

"Darry," I asked slowly, "Would you have let me go if Pony couldn't stop me?"

He smiled from where he knelt. "Hell no. I was waiting just outside that kitchen ready to tackle you if you took another step toward that door. Those edges are still pretty thick. Gotta scrape it real thin so it blends in with the wall around it."

"I got it. Give me a chance; I'm still workin' on it. You realize force couldn't have kept me here, don't you? One or both of us would have gotten hurt bad."

"Yeah, I know. That's why I didn't do it. Pony knew what would stop you though."

"Pretty much," I acknowledged, and then I had to smile a little when I thought back on how I'd underestimated Pony and he'd taken me down without so much as a flick on the forehead. "When did our little brother get smarter than the both of us?"

"He always has been, Soda. Now he's just big enough to show it and we'll listen. He was right though."

"'Bout what? This look good enough?"

"Yeah, just a touch over here and I think you're done. He was right about us trusting you. I don't know what kinda shit went down with you, Carl, and Two-Bit, but I still know you. That hasn't changed. You bein' so messed up right now just proves that."

I was not following his train of thought at all.

"Aww, come on, Darry. You can't expect me to…"

"Hold on now and just listen you stubborn blockhead. If you'd become the cold blooded murderer you claimed last night, none of this would be bothering you. If you really were the monster you think you are, those ghosts wouldn't haunt you every night. Get me?"

I didn't respond immediately. I couldn't. I just went over what Darry said over and over trying to wrestle with the logic in it.

"Maybe I'm beginning to," I answered eventually. I could see what he was saying even if I didn't fully believe it. Not yet at least.

"Good," he nodded approvingly, "And if you ever need a reminder, just ask. I'm sure there are more things around here for us to fix while I attempt to screw that head of yours back on right. Now, I've got a phone call to make. Finish cleaning up here and make sure the lid is put on tight. Then do yourself a favor and go see Steve or take a walk over to the park or something. We'll paint tomorrow night after the plaster's dry."

He walked out of the room, and I was left by myself. I put the lid back on and sat on the bucket staring at the patched wall. It wasn't the same, it wasn't perfect, but it was okay. That battle scar from our fight had just added a bit of character.

 **End**

A/N: Thank you to everyone who stuck with my version of the brothers' journey through Vietnam. All of the feedback you gave is so greatly appreciated!


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